


Haikyuu Harem

by just_j



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Reader-Insert, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29793372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_j/pseuds/just_j
Summary: A collection of fics with your favorite volleyball boys!Contains both smut and fluff.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Reader, Azumane Asahi/Reader, Bokuto Koutarou/Reader, Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader, Kageyama Tobio/Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou/Reader, Nishinoya Yuu/Reader, Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Sakusa Kiyoomi/Reader, Sugawara Koushi/Reader, Ushijima Wakatoshi/Reader
Comments: 21
Kudos: 92





	1. Kuroo Tetsurou - Let's Pretend

**Author's Note:**

> You and Kuroo have been friends for a few years, and it isn't until you dangerously pretend to be together at a party does the truth of your feelings come to light. 
> 
> fluff, college!au, fake dating (kinda), friends to lovers, mutual pining

You and Kuroo have been friends since the first year of college. You met him through Akaashi, who you sat next to in English first semester. And at some point, you got comfortable enough to complain to him about how chemistry was totally kicking your ass and he mentioned that his friend who lived down the hall was pretty good at it. Akaashi offered to ask him if he’d help you out.

And that’s how you found yourself one afternoon waiting for a complete stranger in the library. You weren’t expecting the 6’2” middle blocker of the university’s volleyball team to slide into the seat next to you and introduce himself as Akaashi’s friend.

That was almost 3 years ago now, and it turns out the towering middle blocker you could barely speak a word to the first week of him tutoring you is a _total_ dork that loves volleyball and science just a tad too much.

You plop down on the worn-out couch of your shared apartment with Kuroo, Akaashi, and Bokuto; who you met not long after meeting Kuroo, you shove Kuroo to the end to give yourself some space.

“There’s a perfectly good chair you know!” He complains, squished up against the arm of the couch.

“Huh.” You make a show of squinting at the empty chair. “I think that chair says ‘Kuroo’ on it though.”

He groans. “This couch isn’t made for four people!”

“It most definitely is, I just unfortunately happen to live with two freakishly tall volleyball players and one beefy one.” You jab a finger to the other side of you at Bokuto sandwiched between you and Akaashi on the couch.

Kuroo gives you a look, then turns his attention to the chair in question. “It says Kuroo on it, does it?”

You grin devilishly at him. “Sure does. Gotta squint to see it though.”

He sighs, but picks up his bowl from the table and moves over to the chair grumbling, “The things I let you do…” But you can see he’s trying to hide his smile. This time you smile innocently at him before taking a bite of your food and scooting over to his newly vacated spot. “Who’s turn is it tonight?”

“Mine—mine!” Bokuto shouts, nearly tipping his bowl over in his attempt to snatch the remote. He turns the channel to the college sports network, and you pull out your phone to scroll mindlessly through your feed. You’ve watched volleyball every night for the past week, giving up your nights in control of the remote because they all get _unbearably_ antsy in the days leading up to a game.

So, to make up for it, you either get the remote for however many days you gave it up for or they do the dishes or something. You don’t mind too much, not when you’ve grown accustomed to it since all moving in together for second year. And besides, sometimes it’s just as entertaining watching _them_ watch as it is watching the game itself. You like volleyball enough, having been to many of their games to support them, but watching it every night does get a little old for you.

Though, recently, you’ve found yourself watching Kuroo more often than not. The way his golden eyes intently watch the screen, his food forgotten halfway to his mouth—how his lips move almost imperceptibly as he counts to himself when he’d block. He’s so distracted that when his food slips off his utensil, he doesn’t notice, making a face when he bites at nothing. You don’t bother suppressing your giggles about it. To which he just slides a threatening look over at you before returning his attention to the TV.

“So,” you say loudly to get their attention, notorious for not hearing you when a game is on. “Which team are you playing?”

“The yellow one.” Akaashi points to the left side of the screen.

“Are they good?”

All three of them respond in unison, “Yes.”

You take that as a sign this _isn’t_ a game you’re allowed to chat through. Kuroo surprises you by keeping the conversation going. “Are you going to come?”

Finishing your food, you shrug. “Sure, sounds like it’ll be a good game. Thursday, right?”

You stand, gathering the empty bowls to take to the kitchen. Again, Kuroo surprises you by pulling his attention from the match to hand you his bowl, muttering a quiet, “Thanks.”

Once you’re gone, he sighs internally, unsure why he wishes you’d come to every game. For a reason he can’t explain, during a game when he thinks his thighs will split the next time he jumps, or his fingers are finally going to break off, being able to glance up at you in the stands cheering them on gives him a burst of energy. And for months now, he’s been glancing at you a lot more frequently off the court.

He finds Bokuto and Akaashi staring at him, and all he can say is, “Shut up.”

* * *

You have to beg a couple of your girl friends to come to the game with you, enticing them with the idea of tall, attractive volleyball players. You would have gone alone of you had to but being with others is usually a lot more fun. Especially when your closest friends are _in_ the game, it’s hard for you to find people to join you.

Volleyball is a pretty popular sport at your University for students to attend, so you annoy your friends to get their early, so you get decent seats. You arrive early enough to catch the tail end of both teams’ warm up, and you usually search for Bokuto’s unique black and white hair finding it easy to spot the familiar black mop of bedhead hair standing nearby.

Beside you, your friend asks, “Which ones are your roommates?”

You quickly point out Bokuto. “He’s the ace, and Akaashi is the one standing to the left of him—he’s the setter. And to the other side of him is Kuroo, a middle blocker, and the captain!”

“Middle blocker?”

You blink, realizing they don’t know much about volleyball in comparison to your strange knowledge of the sport you don’t even play. “Uh, yeah! So, most commonly tall players are in the position of middle blocker so that when the other team tries to spike, they can block it. You’ll see, it’s pretty crazy. I always think they’re going to get their arms ripped off, I don’t know how they do it.”

When the teams finish their warm-ups, they both line up on their respective sides to extend their thanks to the crowd for coming to the game. You beam and wave to your friends, doing your best to make the most noise out of everybody—probably looking ridiculous in the process.

Kuroo chuckles at your enthusiasm, Bokuto’s face splits into a smile and returns the gesture, making an effort to wave at the friends you’ve brought with you.

Once they head back to the coach, you friend leans over to whisper, “I know you live with them but…ever thought about dating one of them? ‘Cause— _damn_.”

“What? No!” You splutter. “I couldn’t! I know them a little _too_ well.”

She raises an eyebrow suspiciously. Luckily, you’re saved by the referee blowing the whistle. “Oh, look! The game’s about to start.”

The boys were right, it does turn out to be an exciting game. A nail-biter, sit at the edge of your seat kind of game—your favorite kind. To your relief, your friends get really into the game, and don’t think about asking you more questions about your roommates. Though you can’t stop thinking about it. Not as you watch Kuroo’s jump serve, your eyes drifting to his shorts revealing his muscular thighs or the peek of skin you catch as his shirt rides up.

Have you thought about it in passing once or twice? Sure. Particularly when you’ve caught him just after a shower and he has the audacity to walk around the apartment with just a towel slung around his waist. The first time you saw him, your face set on fire and of _course_ he caught it and chased you around the apartment yelling all sorts of playful jabs at you before you could sprint to the safety of your bedroom and slam the door in his face.

He never once has forgotten that instance, and even now you swear he walks around the apartment like that for longer than necessary on purpose just to fluster you. And sure, when you first met him a few years ago, you developed a crush on him, but it went away quickly after your friendship blossomed.

Didn’t it?

Your eyes widen ever so slightly, feeling like you’ve just had all the air knocked out of you.

Have you… _liked_ …Kuroo all this time?

All those late nights studying, being with him nearly every weekend, enjoying almost every moment with him? The person you’d be so confident to say is your best friend and you’re just figuring this out _now_?

Holy shit—you think you’re going to pass out from the realization.

You watch Kuroo in a strange stupor, reeling from the emotions flooding you at the moment. But you come to a second realization shortly after the first.

That you’ve been friends all this time, and if he had ever felt that way about you…you assume it’s passed. And you can’t help but fixate on the fear that you’re too late in discovering the way you feel about him.

This isn’t going to be fun.

* * *

After the game, which his team fought tooth and nail to win, he notices you’re strangely distant. On the drive home while Bokuto is babbling about the game, you sit quietly in your seat, staring out the window, placating Bokuto with slight nods and occasional responses. It’s very unlike you and worries him.

What happened in the time span between the start and end of the game? Did one of your friends say something that put you off?

He shakes it off, as your spirits brighten slightly when Akaashi suggests you all pick up some takeout on the way home as he’s certain none of you want to put any effort into cooking. Kuroo suggests your favorite place to get food, but if you notice his attempt to bring you out of this weird silent slump, you make no indication of it.

That’s where you all end up getting food, but when you all return home and Akaashi says to you, “Well, what are we watching for the next couple days?”

You dig into the meal, shrugging. “You guys can watch whatever you want tonight, I have a quiz I need to study for.”

Kuroo nearly drops his container. Normally, you take the opportunity to watch _whatever_ you want, no matter the complaints it might raise from any of them. He clamps his mouth shut around his chopsticks and catches the similarly surprised glances of Akaashi and Bokuto from across the table. They’ve caught on as well.

When you finish, you get up, throw your container away, and head up the stairs without another word. The moment you’re out of earshot, Akaashi notes, “Something’s up.”

“Yeah, you know she’s usually pretty amped after a game like that one…” Bokuto mutters, his mouth still half full.

“You should check on her.”

Gazing up the stairs, Kuroo gets the feeling you won’t be receptive to talking. Most of the time, you just need time to sort yourself out. You’re acting weird, but not enough to cause him real alarm yet. “I think she just needs some time,” he says, heart heavy that while he _wants_ to go upstairs to help, he knows you well enough that he probably shouldn’t. He learned that the hard way.

Akaashi just shrugs. “Alright. You’d know best.”

“What does that mean?”

He’s unfazed. “I just mean that while we’re all friends, I think you know her better than us.” His eyes meet Kuroo’s, and just like Kenma could always see straight through him, Akaashi can too. “Just an observation.”

Leave it to Bokuto to say bluntly, “Yeah, we all know you’re in love with her.”

“Bokuto!” Kuroo hisses, glaring at him. She is _right_ upstairs! “I am not—”

“You are,” Akaashi says. “And we all know it except for you and the only person denser than you who is currently directly above us.”

Kuroo slumps in his chair defeated. He _does_ know it; he just doesn’t want to admit it. “Well, let’s all just keep that information to ourselves, shall we?” He groans, leaning his head back onto his chair. He can’t imagine what would happen if you accidentally overheard the fact that Kuroo thinks about you on a near daily basis and hasn’t been able to stop since he met you years ago.

Living together has only made it worse and with Akaashi and Bokuto on his ass about it now, he can’t imagine he’s going to be able to keep it a secret for much longer.

* * *

The next morning, you seem fine. Kuroo can’t detect any of the strange quiet that overcame you last night and things seem…normal. He couldn’t fall asleep though, too worried that you overheard the conversation after you left. But his worries are assuaged this morning when you saunter into the kitchen, unfazed by him, and even asking how he slept.

He swallows with difficulty. “Uh, not great if I’m honest.”

Without even sparing him a glance you say, “I know. I heard you tossing and turning all night.”

He smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Growing pains.”

Now you turn to stare at him, giving him a complete once over head to toe. “ _Growing pains?!_ You’re joking—you already barely miss the tops of the doorframes!”

God, he really should have picked a more believable excuse. “Guess we’re gunna have to move,” he offers playfully.

“No— _you’re_ gunna have to move. Or get used to ducking.” You stick your tongue out at him before taking a seat at the counter, sipping from your mug while scrolling mindlessly through your phone.

“Good game last night, huh?” He blurts trying to fill the silence, so he doesn’t start drowning in thoughts about how cute you look in your shorts or how he’s hyper-fixated on the cup you keep bringing up to your mouth.

You shrug. “My friends seemed to enjoy themselves, so that was fun. I got to show off my endless amounts of volleyball knowledge thanks to you guys.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Positions and plays and stuff. But I think they were much more interested in um—,” you cough, then glance at him from beneath your lashes. “The uh…players.”

He blinks. “What do you mean?” He knows exactly what you mean but he wants to hear you _say_ it.

“I am _not_ saying it.”

“But I really don’t know,” he muses.

A groan emits from you. “ _Yes_ , you do—I know you do.”

He smirks, making heat crawl up your neck. “What about the players?”

Burying your face in your hands, you shout defeated, “Ugh—they think all of you are hot okay?”

The mischievous grin that rises to his lips nearly sends you into overdrive. “Oh, we do get pretty warm,” he agrees, pouring his hot water into a travel mug and snagging a tea bag.

Your eyes narrow dangerously at him. “I hate you.” He just gives you a wink before slipping out the door. Wanting to scold yourself, you tangle your fingers in your hair, trying to convince yourself that was a perfectly _normal_ interaction with him and there isn’t anything to read into. Not that insufferable smirk, or the way his golden eyes pin you in your seat.

You are royally fucked until you get over this.

Snapping you into reality, Akaashi clears his throat from the hallway behind you. “I swear if you say one goddamn word,” you threaten, shoving your mug into the sink and storming past a rather _smug_ looking Akaashi.

* * *

On campus later that afternoon, Kuroo is on his way towards the station on the other side of campus to go home when ahead of him he spots one of the students he tutors coming the opposite direction. After tutoring you so successfully in chemistry, you had encouraged him to get a job at the tutoring center and he’s been working there since his second year. And this particular student, although he knows she means well, is by no means _shy_ about her infatuation with him.

Just earlier today he tutored here and part of him thinks she actually does understand chemistry, but just makes appointments at the center solely to spend time with him. And today she asked him about the party being thrown by several sports clubs tonight, wondering if the volleyball club is a part of it.

He knows about the party, but the volleyball club had opted to not help host it and he had yet to ask the others if they wanted to attend. So, he’d given her a non-committal response.

When the session ended, she’d left with a suggestive, “Well, I hope to see you there Kuroo-kun!”

He can’t help that seeing her coming at him from the other direction, he instinctively panics and scans his surroundings for somewhere to hide until she passes. It’s then that he hears your familiar laughter fill the air and he immediately locates you sitting on the lawn with Akaashi. Relief fills him and without even thinking, he strides off the pavement into the grass and abruptly plops down beside you.

“Kuroo? What the—”

“Hi, sorry, please help me out.” He motions with his head in the direction of his tutee.

You tilt your head to glance behind his shoulder, catching sight of the girl whose been pursuing Kuroo since he started tutoring him at the beginning of the semester. “This is ridiculous.” You giggle quietly at the 6’2” volleyball player trying to hide behind your frame.

“You can’t just stop to chat for a few minutes?” Akaashi asks in a hushed tone.

“She’s going to ask me to go to a party with her tonight.”

“Ah,” you say in understanding. Kuroo is far too nice to tell her no flat out.

And despite his attempts to avoid her, she spots him anyways and makes a detour out onto the lawn to talk to him. “Hi Kuroo-kun! Done with classes for the day?”

“Hey Suzuki.” He admirably gives her a warm smile. “Yeah, just enjoying the rest of the afternoon.” He feels awful. She’s a nice girl, but unfortunately, he’s pathetically in love with the one sitting next to him.

“Have you decided about the party yet?”

Unsurprisingly, Kuroo turns to the two of you for the answer. You shrug, looking at Akaashi. “Sounds fun, we haven’t been to a party in a while. Think Bo will be up for it?”

“Bokuto? Up for a party? _Never_.”

You chuckle at that and _try_ not to laugh at the glare Kuroo points in your direction. He was hoping you’d say _no,_ so he doesn’t have to endure advances from Suzuki all night.

Suzuki grins and tells him she’ll see him tonight before bounding off, and once she’s out of earshot he grips your arm hissing, “Are you _trying_ to kill me?”

“Don’t worry.” You nudge him. “We’ll protect you all night. C’mon, lets have fun tonight!”

He’s in no position to deny you.

* * *

The party is already in full swing by the time you all get there, and Bokuto is none too shy to immediately drag Akaashi out onto the thumping dancefloor. You can’t help smiling softly at them, knowing that only Bokuto can get Akaashi to loosen up like that. Meanwhile, you and Kuroo hang back near the bar, sipping idly from your cups, laughing at Bokuto’s dance moves.

Though the unease rolling off Kuroo is palpable. Despite making humorous comments about how Bokuto is bound to take out someone’s eye with his limbs flailing around like that, he can’t hide his nervous glances as he scans the crowd for Suzuki.

Eventually he spots her, and he’s not sure how she hasn’t spotted _him_ yet. He thought she’d be actively on the lookout for him, but instead she’s chatting with some other people, and unaware of his presence yet. He’s unsure if he can handle a night of being pursued by her but _god_ —he also can’t stomach breaking her heart either. Not when he has to tutor her for the rest of the semester.

Glancing down at you next to him, he follows your gaze fixed on the dancefloor, smiling softly at your two friends enjoying themselves. “You want to dance?” He shoves off the wall to stand in front of you.

“What?”

“Didn’t you say let’s have some fun tonight?” He jabs a thumb behind him. “Looks like fun to me.”

A grin spreads across your lips that makes his heart stutter in his chest.

Following him down to the floor, you both shove your way through the crowd to reach Akaashi and Bokuto near the middle of the mass of people. When you arrive, Bokuto shouts a happy greeting and takes your hands into his to help you start dancing before returning his attention to Akaashi. There’s not much room down here, pressing you close against Kuroo, but you don’t think much of at as you’re pressed close to _everyone_ around you too.

But Kuroo can’t think of anything _but_ how close you are. Your laughter filling his ears as you lift your hands and start moving your hips to the beat—he realizes what a terrible idea this was. He wants to set his hands on those hips _so_ bad and pull you even closer against him, close enough that he can feel your heartbeat against his chest and— _fuck_ , he’s going to lose it tonight.

Before he can spiral into his fantasies about you, he instinctively looks for Suzuki again to see if she’s noticed him yet. He hopes he’s obscured enough on the dancefloor that it gives him a bit longer before the onslaught of suggestive words and here she won’t be pressured to keep it in check like she is on campus.

But just as he’s about to overthink _that_ situation, a warm hand reaches up to grasp his face pulling his attention back to you. Any thoughts he had are tossed out the window as you stare at him openly and seriously.

“That doesn’t look like fun.” You point out.

“She’s here.”

You do a quick survey of the room and locate her; blissfully unaware the object of her infatuation is right under her nose. “Why don’t you just reject her?” You say out of the blue, startling him. He opens his mouth to object, but you just continue, “I get that you think you’re too nice and all, but wouldn’t it be nicer than leading her on like this?”

He has no argument against that.

“In my experience, most girls would much prefer you be honest with them. Just tell her you’re not interested. Simple.”

He stares at you. Mulling over the words you just said.

 _Be honest with them_.

“You’re right,” he says, no longer thinking about Suzuki. “I’m not interested in her.”

“See? I told you, easy—”

“I’m interested in you.”

You make a small choking noise and blink dumbfounded at him. “That’s not funny.”

His expression doesn’t change, and your knees almost buckle under the weight of his stare. “It’s not a joke.”

“You…you—what? That’s…what?” He tries not to chuckle that he’s broken you into being unable to put together a sentence. “For how long?”

He shrugs, a little embarrassed to admit it. “A while.”

“I— _ugh_. You’re damn lucky I realized it recently too.” His eyes widen, lips curving into a smile as you throw your arms around his neck and press your lips to his.

He’s perfect and warm and solid against you, kissing you like he’s thought about this moment a million times. And by _god_ is he fucking good at it. In the back of your mind, you swear you hear Bokuto’s whoop of excitement breaking through the music shouting, “Finally!!”


	2. Akaashi Keiji - Lazy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a short drabble of a lazy day with Akaashi

Nothing could possibly top spending entire days with you; but days of this rare kind were his favorite. He knew it was bound to occur when you woke up this morning—eyes blinking in the morning sun, limbs stretching and tangling with his under the sheets as you mumbled, “Do we have to get up yet?”

He kissed your forehead, wrapping his arms around you. “No,” he murmured against your hair.

Yes, he enjoyed these half-awake mornings with you. Sharing sleepy kisses while you let him run his fingers gently through your hair. The rising sun casting the room in a warm glow that he knew without his help you would never rouse from your slumber. He indulged you though—if only for himself. You were beautiful to behold and this way he could marvel unabashedly at you; still completely stunned that he wakes up to you every morning.

Eventually, he untangled himself from you and rose from the bed; despite your protesting. However, when he returned with two steaming cups of tea, you propped yourself up against the headboard and gladly accepted one. You reached for the other as well so that he could climb in next to you before handing it back.

You sat in comfortable silence together. While you stared out the window, appreciating the simple; yet intimate touch of his leg against yours, he just looked at you. Drinking in the sight of you peacefully sipping your tea, wearing one of his t-shirts, the sun illuminating half your face; his heart feeling so unbelievably full in this humble moment.

He almost couldn’t take it when you slid your gaze over to him, your mouth curving into a smile. “What are you staring at Keiji?”

“Just you,” he said simply.

Your face flushed pink. “You always say that,” you said, turning your body towards him and tucking your legs beneath you; your knees brushing against his thigh.

“And I always mean it.” He set his empty cup down, picking up his book on the bedside table; silence settling over the room again. Sooner or later, you finished your tea and joined him with your own book. Just being in each other’s presence was enough.

He liked when you’d shimmy your way into his arms, your back resting against his chest; sometimes dozing off from reading. He _especially_ liked to read with his head in your lap because you’d absentmindedly run your fingers through his raven hair. The sensation of your nails lightly scratching his scalp could almost guarantee he’d fall asleep.

Despite doing nothing all day, the hours fly by; night falling upon your bedroom before he knows it. You find a way into his warm embrace and let him kiss you softly, and repeatedly; whispering sweet words between kisses that were only meant for you.

Yes—days like this were treasured moments he kept close to his heart.


	3. Bokuto Koutarou - Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request from Tumblr:  
> "Could I request a scenario with Kuroo & Bokuto (separately) where they comfort/distract their girlfriend with a date (maybe getting hot chocolate at the Christmas market or just binge watching shows at home), because she’s suffering from a mild burnout, because of how stressful university (college au) is? Is that okay? Thank you in advance & have a wonderful day!"
> 
> Kuroo coming up next :)

When you get back to your shared apartment with Bokuto after your last final of the semester, you unsurprisingly find him waiting for you—a wide grin splitting his face in two. He’s been particularly antsy lately, making you grow suspicious that he has something up his sleeve, and you’ve been suspecting this week to finally reveal whatever he’s been hiding from you for a few weeks now.

But maybe you’re wrong, maybe he’s just excited that the break from school is here and that the two of you will be able to spend more time together now.

That thought is tossed to the wind when he gathers you up his arms before you even get the chance to slip your shoes off and squeezes you hard enough that your breath whooshes out of you. When he sets you down, you peer up at him with narrowed eyes. “ _Bo~_ ,” you coo, attempting to hit that sing-song voice that tends to break him easier. “What’s up? You look like you’re about to explode.”

Instead of stiffening like he’s been caught red handed, he just throws his head back, hands on his hips and laughs towards the ceiling. “You’ll see!” His head snaps back to look at you as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. You can’t help but smirk at his display.

“What do you have up your sleeve, Bo? Come on, tell me.” You poke his side and sidle up beside him, strategically placing a hand around his bicep.

You hear him suck in a breath, your fist inclination that your tactics might have begun to work. Startling you, he shoves you away and says louder and more insistently, “You’ll _see_!” You lift a brow in question but retreat on your advances. He seems persistent on keeping whatever he’s got planned a secret. Fine—you’re willing to play along. He’s been able to keep it to himself for this long, which you admit you’re amazed by, and allow him to continue to do so—only so he’ll feel that much more triumphant when he’s finally able to let it out the secret.

Once he sees you disappear down the hallway, Bokuto takes a deep breath—you almost had him. _Almost._ He knows this last semester really wore you out, especially the last few weeks. Most weekdays you came home practically already asleep, and even when you’d have precious moments together, something as simple and mundane as just relaxing watching TV; you’d be asleep within a few moments.

He didn’t mind. You needed it—plus he would never complain about having you curl up beside him, head resting on his broad chest while yours lifted softly with each breath. In fact, it pained him to wake you up and force you to crawl into bed. Somedays he just lifted you in his arms and carried you there. The majority of the time being the latter.

Leading up to this day, Bokuto has had to resort to gushing to Kuroo and Akaashi at volleyball practice about the whole thing. Enough that _they’re_ past smiling and being excited for him and have been pushed to the brink of entertaining the idea slitting his throat.

And now that they day is here, when he finally gets to put his plan into action, Bokuto is practically bursting at the seams to tell you. Especially since you’re already suspicious of something and attempted to weasel it out of him, knowing exactly how to break him. Setting a small hand on his arm, making it ever more obvious just how much bigger he is than you, using that soft sing-song voice that nearly did him in. Only his dramatic display of laughing and shrugging you off letting him escape from the snare you so easily set for him.

No—he is going to see this through to the end. Only for the joy of seeing your face when he reveals his plans for you. He beams at the thought.

After dinner, he attempts to nonchalantly ask you to go for a walk. It’s not uncommon for the two of you to take a leisurely stroll as the sun sets, but the way he’s shifting in his seat—doing his very best to be normal, makes you eye him suspiciously. He just maintains his uncontrollable grin, despite his best efforts to squash it as not to make you more suspicious than he can tell you already are.

You comply, taking his hand once you’re outside, and you can tell that if you were in an enclosed space, he’d be bouncing off the walls by now. You let him lead you, noticing he’s walking faster and (you don’t know how it’s even possible) but his smile, already at an incredible wattage, is widening with each step.

Up ahead, you squint and can barely make out a faint glow emerging from between some of the buildings. Unable to stop yourself, you crane your head to get a better look. Bokuto notices you trying to sneak a peek and purposefully steps in your line of sight, filling it with his beaming smile.

“No peeking.”

You just narrow your eyes but resolve to keeping your curiosity to yourself. Bokuto seems satisfies and continues on. After a few more blocks, you turn onto a street and your eyes widen at the sight before you.

In the park near your apartment that the two of you frequent, there are various tents set up and citizens milling about, all bathed in a warm glow from the lanterns littering the grass, hanging from above in the trees, and those resting in people’s hands. You gape at it all, while beside you, Bokuto is radiating pure joy.

“I saw a flyer for it on campus!!” He turns to you, grasping both of your hands in his—dwarfing them, that smile you love so much adorning his face. “Do you like it??”

Your lips tremble and without your permission, tears well up in your eyes. These past few weeks have been so unbelievably stressful, and for him to notice—for him to plan _this_ , it was enough to bring joyous loving tears to your eyes.

Immediately, Bokuto frets. “What—what is it? Is it not okay? We can go, I just…”

You grip his hands to silence him. “No. I love it. Thank you, Bo.”

His smile returns and he gently places his hands on your cheeks to wipe away the tears now spilling over onto them.

Behind him, a familiar voice calls, “Oi! Bokuto!”

You peer around him to find your friends, Kuroo and Akaashi, both holding two lanterns each.

Bokuto beams yet again. “I invited them too!

You grin and wipe at your eyes once more, gingerly taking one of the lanterns from Akaashi’s hands. As you do so, he tells you, “Congrats on finishing the semester.”

You laugh softly. “Thanks. We all did it!” You survey the three of them, a peacefulness you didn’t know you were missing settling over your heart. It almost made you start crying again.

“Bo cut it a bit close,” Kuroo jests.

“Hey! What the heck!” Bokuto says, snatching his lantern aggressively from Kuroo.

You smirk. “All the more reason to celebrate.” He sticks his tongue out at you, but you just take his hand and follow the stream of people gathering at the center of the park; all of them carrying lanterns of their own.

You stand at the center, surrounded by your friends and the ethereal light of the lanterns, Bokuto’s warm hand in yours. Both of you look at the other before simultaneously lifting your lanterns into the sky and letting them join the plethora of ones already drifting into the night. With it, you feel all the stress and worry that accompanied these past weeks floating away with it, freeing you and letting you look forward to the days ahead. Days you would spend with Bokuto.

Turning to him, you find him gaping at you, marveling at how impossibly beautiful you look in the warm glow of the lanterns, a soft smile gracing your lips. He feels even more overjoyed that he surprised you with this. Even more so when you throw your arms around his neck and plant a kiss to his lips.

“Thank you,” you murmur against him.

That unbreakable smile splits his face in two, and instead of replying, he just squishes you against him and lets his lips find yours once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't take requests often (almost never) but this was one from a while ago on tumblr!  
> you can find me at @haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles if you so desire (i post everything i post here there as well)


	4. Kuroo Tetsurou - Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request from Tumblr:  
> "Could I request a scenario with Kuroo & Bokuto (separately) where they comfort/distract their girlfriend with a date (maybe getting hot chocolate at the Christmas market or just binge watching shows at home), because she’s suffering from a mild burnout, because of how stressful university (college au) is? Is that okay? Thank you in advance & have a wonderful day!"

It was that time of year again. When the last couple weeks of the semester feel like they’re dragging on for years. It’s been over a month since any of your weekends weren’t spent studying. For exams that professors cruelly gave out during hell week, only to go straight into studying for finals. It’s absolutely brutal to endure, even Kuroo dialing back on the witty remarks that keep the two of you sane during stressful bouts of the semester in favor of silent study sessions.

You and Kuroo were regulars at the library, but in the weeks leading up to the end of the semester you feel like you practically live there. Camping out in a secluded corner for hours, being _those_ people that others gawk at wondering just how the hell anyone can bear it for so long. Afterwards going back to your respective apartments each night and passing out, many nights being too exhausted to part ways and ending up falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Kuroo was lucky, having most of his exams scheduled at the beginning of exam week while you were stuck with exams scheduled at the end of the week. It tore at his heart to watch you continue to stress and study while he’s home free until next semester. He doesn’t try to get you to take a break though, knowing there’s a high possibility it will end up with his head getting bit off, so he lets you keep studying. He can wait to have his girlfriend back until the end of the week.

Though midway through the week, he stops by your apartment, just to check up since he hasn’t heard from you in a while; discovering you passed out on your couch, textbook fallen open on the floor. He rolled his eyes, placing the textbook on the coffee table, gathering you up in his arms—earning him a small grunt and one bleary eye peeking up at him.

Upon seeing it’s only him, your eye closes, and you snuggle a bit further into his arms, falling back asleep almost immediately. He chuckles a bit to himself, resorting to planning something for you once you finish. God knows the both of you need a bit of relaxation after the hellscape of the weeks ending the semester.

On the day of your last exam, he hears you before he sees you. The door to his apartment flinging open, the sound of you plopping your backpack in the entryway before your face appears in the doorway to the living room. He smiles at you, patting the spot beside him, which you all but melt into. Then you snuggle your body against his, tucking yourself beneath his arm and burying your face into his chest; a pleased sigh escaping you.

He rubs the bare skin of your arm comfortingly. “Finished?” Not even a response from you, just a slight nod that he only notices because your head is pressed to his chest. He fights the urge to chuckle at you, weighing the cost of a possible pinch to his side in reply.

“I don’t want to look at another textbook for a least two months,” you mutter, words muted against him.

Now he allows himself to laugh. “So, if I want you to do something all I have to do is threaten you with a textbook?”

He feels you grin next to him. “I’ll run for the hills—don’t test me.”

“Should I hide some around the house for some good jump scares?”

You shove him with your shoulder now. “Then you might get one chucked at your head.”

He laughs, putting his arms around you to pull you even closer. You oblige by lifting your legs and placing them over his own, so you’re practically sitting in his lap now, arms wrapped around his neck and playing absentmindedly with the dark tangles of his hair.

“Then it’s a good thing I have some textbook-free plans for tonight then.”

That earns him a groan and you lift your head to look at him with weary eyes. “Please tell me it involves no effort on my part. My brain is mush at the moment.”

He smiles softly at you, a rare expression saved solely for you. “Of course.” Then puts a hand to his chest feigning offense. “Who do you think I am?” You lift a brow at him questioningly, just what exactly does he have planned? It’s Kuroo, so it could be anything. And while you’re normally all in for his crazy schemes or fun outings, you’re wiped and don’t think you can get up from this couch even if you _want_ to. But he knows you pretty well and you’re sure he knows you’re in no mood to actually _do_ anything at the moment. He inclines his head to the TV. “How does a marathon of your favorite movies sound?”

A smile lifts to your lips before you bury your face once again in his chest, tightening your grip to squeeze him with a hug. “Sounds perfect,” you say, planting a kiss to his cheek. He beams and begins the process of extracting himself from the tangle of your limbs to put the first movie in the stack he procured earlier into the DVD player.

You sink back into the couch, tugging a blanket free to burrow into. Covering your face with the blanket you sigh, “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

He pops the movie in, then returns to you, pulling the blanket away to reveal your blushing face. He smirks. “You could start by sharing this blanket with me.” Your laughter fills the room and it sent his heart thundering against his ribcage; as long as he could keep you laughing, he would consider this night a success.

You make room for him, head resting on his shoulder as he stretches arm behind you on the back of the couch. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, then rests his cheek on it; subconsciously rubbing mindless circles with his fingers splayed across your opposite shoulder. You sigh deeply, your own fingers grasping lightly at his shirt; body relaxing almost melding with his.

“This is exactly what I needed,” you breathe. There is no better place to feel safe and warm than his embrace and it is definitely exactly where you want to be after a long and draining day. You don’t even mean the thoughtful plans he concocted—although you aren’t complaining—but what you really mean is that all you need is him. This comfort and rejuvenation you only find in his arms. He seems to understand, giving you a light squeeze in response.

“Me too,” he murmurs. It was true—in the flurry of stress and studying that consumed your lives the only interaction between the two of you revolved around school. Or consisted of both of you passing out from exhaustion, giving up the luxury of lazy kisses and quiet bids of goodnight, for the desperately needed solace of sleep. 

But this was perfect, and he’d go through weeks and weeks of the hell that was school for nights like this.


	5. (NSFW) Ushijima Wakatoshi - Trick or Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request from Tumblr:  
> "Hey hey hey :D I saw that your requests are open for halloween themed requests!! Can I request something with Ushiwaka where his GF sends him some suggestive pics of her in black lingerie and cat ears and cat make-up, telling him that she put on her costume for him and he kinda has a hard time concentrating on what he's doing after seeing them and when he gets to her place things kinda escalate? (make it nsfw if you want!) Thank you very much xoxo"

You had bought the get-up a few weeks ago—knowing full well the effect it would have on him. He always became putty in your hands whenever you wore something as simple as new underwear or something. But, when he told you at the beginning of the week that he was going to have practice every night, you tried not to look disappointed. Your idea would look silly on any other night but Halloween…

However, in the days prior to Halloween, another idea formed in your mind—something that you were sure would drive him absolutely crazy. You knew he checked his phone a final time after warm-up before practice started in full swing because normally you sent him an encouraging text and today you were going to take advantage of that habit.

You donned the lingerie set, applied the appropriate make-up, and stood in front of the mirror mustering your confidence. It helped trying to imagine his reaction to opening this particular message; part of you wished you could see it. You snapped a few photos, chose the best one, and quickly sent it off before you lost your nerve.

It was almost time for practice to officially start, warm-up and stretching were finished, and this was Ushijima’s last chance to check his phone for a couple of hours. As usual, he had a text from you. It was a photo message which was uncommon. The moment he opened it, he just stared in awe at what you had sent him—completely stunned at the photo. He felt his erection press against his shorts at the sight of you wearing a set of black, lacy lingerie he _definitely_ hadn’t seen before, cat whiskers drawn on your cheeks and cat ears atop your head.

While he stared, he received another message from you:

 _Happy Halloween_ 🎃

His mouth went dry.

Snapping him from his trance, Tendou said behind him, “What’s so interesting, Wakatoshi??”

He locked his phone quickly. “Let’s begin,” he said simply, striding out onto the court in an attempt to walk off what was going on between his legs right now. Tendou just cocked his head questioningly and passed him the ball.

He’d never been so distracted in his entire life. The image of you waiting for him wearing _that_ kept passing through his mind without warning, inevitably leaving him rather bothered underneath his shorts which made it exceptionally difficult to keep focused. Despite his best efforts, his mind would wander to what he was going to do with you; going back and forth between enjoying what you were wearing or ripping it off as fast as he could.

For the first time, he was thankful for practice to end and that somehow no one had noticed his mind was somewhere else today—save for Tendou who kept shooting suggestive glances his way. He packed up his bag quickly, but not hurriedly; bid goodbye to his teammates, and headed in the direction of your house. His pace subconsciously faster than usual.

You were waiting for him rather casually, so you weren’t sure exactly what to do when you heard your front door open and close and his deep voice rumble through the house. “(Y/N).”

“I’m upstairs,” you called as calmly as possible. Shortly after, footsteps sounded on the stairs. He appeared in the doorway, looking the most disheveled you thought you’d ever seen him, his olive eyes taking in your beautiful form sprawled out on the bed. His mind went blank at the movement of your body towards him; finding it extremely difficult to swallow when you rose to your knees at the edge of the bed allowing him to see the full outfit—leaving very little to the imagination. You motioned for him to come closer, pleased with the effect you were having on him.

He stepped up in front of you, stiffly resting his hands on your barely clothed hips. “Do you like it?” you asked, latching your fingers behind his neck, effectively drawing him closer to press his body against yours. “I bought it for you.”

“Yes,” he brushed his fingers along your bare skin, leaving fire in their wake. “I like it very much,” he said breathily against your lips. He kissed you slowly at first; savoring the feel of your lips against his—but the moment you opened your mouth to let out a soft moan, he lost it. Tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth causing you to tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer. His calloused fingers danced along your bare skin, settling at the small of your back to arch your body to meet his.

Your fingers left his hair to grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him down on top of you; his hands wandering elsewhere, ghosting your sides and thighs. You leaned into his touch, desperate for any sort of contact; eliciting a groan from him as you lightly bit his bottom lip. You slid your hands beneath his shirt and in one motion from him it lay in a pile on the floor revealing his firm and toned torso that you eyed hungrily. But he was here to have his way with _you_ , not the other way around. Not when you had left him with the burning image of you wearing next to nothing for a few hours.

He drifted from your lips, to your jaw, grazing your neck, placing kisses along your sternum as he continued downwards. He paused only for a moment to gently tug at one of your perk nipples with his teeth that your lacy bra was doing nothing to hide while rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger. Your hips bucked, heat pooling in your core—he wasn’t touching you _enough_.

He moved on to your stomach, fingers playing with the garters that connected your stockings to your underwear. Between kisses, he murmured against your skin, “You are so beautiful.” All you could do was hum in response as his warm lips pressed against your inner thigh. He unclipped the garters, allowing him to slide the thoroughly soaked underwear from your legs; tossing them to join his shirt on the floor.

He wasted no time, the back of your head hitting the pillow as his tongue slid between your folds; flicking against your clit momentarily before slowing to agonizing circles that had you knotting your fingers in his hair. You started to move your hips in synchronization with his tongue, trying to find the friction you were aching for. He gripped your thighs trying to stop you, hoping to draw out your pleasure as long as possible.

He loved looking at you like this. Skin flushed, head thrown back, your beautiful lips parted open in a silent plea of his name.

He was driving you so close to the edge, but what sent you over it was opening your eyes to see him gazing at you from between your legs; moving his tongue faster and releasing his grip on your thighs to let you press yourself against him.

Watching your legs shudder and back arch to ride out your orgasm spurred him on. He couldn’t wait any longer—he wanted to be inside of you. You had the same idea as your fingers latched onto the waistband of his tracksuit and futilely tried to pry them off. He stopped to assist, adding them to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. He was impatient, nudging at your core with his tip almost immediately when he returned to you.

You adjusted your hips, wrapping your legs around his waist to ease him inside of you. He couldn’t hold back his groan at the sensation of your walls tight around his length. He found your lips again, this time firmer and needier; stealing your breath as his tongue explored your mouth. His thumbs rolling across your scantily clothed nipples went straight to heightening the feeling of him slowly moving in and out of you. Calloused fingers soon finding their way underneath the bra to pinch and play with them, while his mouth continued to occupy yours and his hips rolled with each thrust.

You almost whined when one of his hands left your breast, until it reappeared to rub your clit shooting fireworks off in your brain. Sighs and moans unabashedly fell from your lips, only driving him faster, your nails digging into his back pressing his muscular chest against yours; legs tightening around his hips. Everything about you was driving him mad; his arms quivering from the strength he was gripping the bedsheets with, toes curling as he reached his climax.

You held him close to you as he stiffened, thrusting once more into you; both of you reaching the breaking point together. He panted against your neck, kissing it softly while you marveled at his body covered in a sheen of sweat. He pulled out of you, planting another kiss on your forehead. Then rolled to his back next to you, reaching an arm out for you to curl up against him.

Instead, you left him for a moment to pick up his shirt on the floor to toss it over your head and then handing him his boxers. “You shouldn’t send me texts like that while I’m at practice,” he said, accepting his underwear from you—his eyes trailing down the new sight of you wearing his clothes. He liked it just as much as the lingerie that was now littered on the floor.

“Mmm,” you mused curling up under his arm, tracing a finger along his chest. “I think I might.”

He didn’t say anything but tugged you closer—he wouldn’t mind very much if you did.

In the morning, he couldn’t resist the slight smile that rose to his lips at the sight of himself in the mirror; your black cat makeup smeared all over his face as a reminder of what transpired the night before.


	6. (NSFW) Sakusa Kiyoomi - You weren't supposed to hear that!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first in a collection of instances where your roommate hears you moaning their name whilst your fingers are between your legs. Or your neighbor. Or maybe you walk in on them saying your name. Take your pick 😈

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a couple of these under the same concept and really enjoy writing them so there'll probably be more to come! They'll all have the same title: "you weren't supposed to hear that!"
> 
> enjoy!!

You weren’t really sure what you were expecting when you filled out the application to be Sakusa’s roommate. The application was straightforward, maybe a bit excessive, particularly in the cleaning department, but nothing you couldn’t handle. And you would’ve done almost anything to be accepted given the price was a steal and the owner of the apartment claimed they would be away frequently. So, agreeing to a few ridiculous housekeeping requests seemed reasonable to you.

All Sakusa wanted was someone to look after his apartment while he was gone, keep it tidy and clean it thoroughly before he returns. You also had to send pictures of the state of your current apartment to ‘prove’ your cleanliness. Excessive, but retrospectively—extremely worth it.

Though what you hadn’t been expecting was for the owner of the apartment to be Sakusa Kiyoomi, an outside hitter for the MSBY Black Jackals. Nor had you expected him to actually accept your application.

In all honesty, Sakusa had been a little desperate. Nobody who’d applied came even close to his expectations, and when he’d read you clean your bathroom at least once a week, it was like a breath of fresh air. And when he met you, you were pleasant and described that you mainly like to keep to yourself which sounded perfect to him. But what really convinced him was that you showed up wearing a mask. He wasn’t sure if you could tell how surprised he was, but the second he saw it, he almost accepted you on the spot.

That was over a year ago now and you and Sakusa have been living in a comfortable rhythm. When he’s home, you gladly help him clean when you have the time, and sometimes when he gets home from practice you already have dinner cooking which he can’t deny he’s come to enjoy. When he’s away, he feels safe that his home isn’t going into complete disarray or collecting dust because you’re there. And when he comes home, he loves that the apartment is nearly spotless.

By now, he almost considers your germs his own. He doesn’t mind sitting near you eating dinner, or next to each other on the couch. In fact, he finds he rather enjoys your presence. But lately, the two of you have been sitting closer on the couch and table, and when he’s gone, he actually misses you, which he will never admit. Coming home to a clean apartment and even you just popping your head into the hallway to greet him before retreating to your room is enough for him.

His growing problem is that he isn’t sure if it’s enough anymore. And it became terribly clear to him when you came to one of his games for the first time.

After the game you waited for him outside the locker room, feeling a little out of place even though Sakusa gave you a VIP pass to be allowed back here. When he emerges, he finds you swarmed by his teammates, politely indulging them and telling them you’re just waiting for someone. It makes his skin prickle in the same way it does when people touch him unprompted. Even worse, Atsumu is far too close to you for his comfort.

You seem fine though, brightly greeting him when he approaches, much to the shock of his teammates.

“What’s a pretty girl doin’ knowing our ‘Omi, hey?” Atsumu drawls, sending a sly smile your way as Sakusa frowns at the nickname.

Before you can open your mouth, amused by the nickname you’ve never heard before, Sakusa interjects, “She’s my roommate.” Rendering the rest of them speechless (which is quite the feat), he takes you gently by the arm so the two of you can leave. Two things shock them: that Sakusa has a roommate and that he touched you.

“They aren’t so bad,” you grin up at him as he scowls, the two of you heading down the hallway towards the exit.

“You don’t have to spend hours on end with them.”

You shrug, knowing Sakusa is a man of unique circumstances when it comes to other people. A thought that makes you stop in your tracks, your hand shooting out to grip his arm to stop him, surprising him enough that he doesn’t recoil from your touch. “We should go this way,” you say, pointing down a different hallway.

He just looks at you, then down at your hand still wrapped around his forearm which you quickly snatch away. “Why? This way will be closer to the car.”

“I came by this way earlier and there was a group of your fans waiting for you,” you grimace. “I’d guess they’re probably still there.”

He frowns, grumbling to himself, but starting towards the hallway you pointed out. He’d very much like to avoid that situation if possible. The two of you make it out unscathed and un-swarmed by his avid fans, and on the way out to the car he can’t help thinking how much he appreciates how considerate you are. Anyone else would have told him he’s being ridiculous and to meet his fans. Not you, however. You always take his feelings into account.

That was weeks ago now. And none of his teammates have let it go since.

For you, when you first moved in, you swore to yourself you’d never fall for him. Not even after you accidentally walked in on him working out in his home gym, his lean and muscular arms out on display, a thin sheen of sweat dampening his dark curls—you nearly combusted. You forced yourself to put it out of your mind, because how could you fall for him? His annoyingly attractive face on billboards haunts you everywhere you go, and he was a stand-offish and a little neurotic for months. But as time as passed, he grew on you.

You now find his need for cleanliness endearing. Particularly now that he’s seemingly accepted you into his ‘bubble’. You’ll never forget the moment he touched you for the first time of his own accord. It was simple, nothing to think anything of really, but for him it was a big deal. It was just a brief touch on the shoulder while you were washing dishes thanking you for dinner. Afterwards, you took note of every time he touched you. One that stands out the most was when he wanted to escape his teammates at the very first game of his you attended. It was firmer, more of a silent plea from him that stunned you.

Really, you could be perfectly happy living like this. Except that your thoughts wander to him far too often now. Especially when he’s gone. It feels weird not having him around, scolding you for missing one spot on the counter, or sitting quietly next to you on the couch—you think about him a lot. His silent presence is strangely comforting, and it doesn’t help you watch his games while he’s away.

He is beautiful to watch. To the point you can’t even believe you live with him. Your efforts to keep your feelings in check were futile. You get so riled up that recently you’ve begun tiding yourself over to the thought of him. At first, you felt pretty ridiculous, especially since it’s hard to imagine him wanting to be…dirty like that, but eventually you just let your imagination run wild. You let yourself believe that with you, he’d be different.

It’s become a habit now while he’s gone. You know it’s awful. Yet you can’t stop yourself. Not when you haven’t been with someone since moving in with Sakusa. At first it was because you didn’t want to piss him off by bringing some stranger into the apartment. But now, you don’t even think you could. Not when you know you’ll only think about him the entire time.

He left only yesterday for his away game, but you’re already missing him. Already foolishly letting your thoughts wander into darker territory that you keep locked up tight when he’s around. His game is tomorrow, so you take the opportunity while you’re almost one-hundred percent certain he won’t come home early. On several occasions he’s come back a day early, but never before a game. Always after.

Your new favorite spot is the shower. Mostly because you can imagine him maybe letting loose a bit while the two of you are actively being cleaned in the process. Once you’ve stripped and the warm water is cascading down your back, it’s easy to imagine him.

You’ve pictured him so many times before that sometimes it really does feel like he’s there. That it’s his hands trailing down your sides, resting your hips, his mouth gently kissing along your neck as his hands move lower. The thought of him towering over you, his curly hair damp from the water, those dark eyes boring into you has you trembling in anticipation.

You’re already soaking when you run a finger between your folds, gripping the tiles when it reaches your clit, wondering what Sakusa’s fingers would feel like instead. Dipping your head, you let out a small, “Kiyoomi,” as you picture him whispering filthy things in your ear.

When Sakusa enters the apartment, he wrinkles his nose under his mask at the slight mess. Though, he supposes he can’t blame you. He wasn’t supposed to be home for another three days. But the other team cancelled unexpectedly, unable to get to the destination due to terrible weather. He hears the shower running in the other room, so he pulls off his mask and gets down to work. He can talk to you about it later.

Though he can’t help imagining you in the shower. Your body freshly clean, water running down your back, between your breasts, and along your legs. His mind gets so clouded by the image that he doesn’t realize he’s been scrubbing the same spot on the counter for a few minutes now. He’s jolted back to reality when he hears a sharp, “Ah!” emit from the bathroom.

He drops his cleaning supplies and quickly strides towards the bathroom thinking you’ve fallen in the shower. The door is slightly open, steam trickling into the hallway, and before he can knock and ask if you’re alright he hears your voice again.

“Oh—Kiyoomi…”

His hand stops mid-air, eyes widening with the realization of what you’ve just said. He pauses for a moment, debating what he should do. He can’t deny he thinks about you more often than he should, and more frequently as of late. And to him, the shower seems like the perfect place. So, he pushes the door open quietly, unzipping his jacket and saying into the silence, “Did you say my name?”

You almost take a tumble into the tub in surprise at hearing his actual voice in the bathroom with you. Close enough to lead you to believe he is in the bathroom. Yanking your fingers out of you, you push back the curtain, intent on yelling at him for intruding on you and scaring the shit out of you, though your voice dies in your throat.

Standing in the middle of the bathroom is Sakusa Kiyoomi, in all his infuriatingly delicious glory, pulling off his shirt and moving to rid himself of his track pants as well. He’s looking at you, deadpan, eyes moving down your body but stopping where the shower curtain is still covering you.

After a moment, you collect your senses, managing to choke out, “Wh—what are you doing?” Just your luck that he came home early at this exact moment and that he heard you. You’d curl up into a ball of embarrassment right now if you weren’t so shocked by his demeanor. 

Now that he’s completely unclothed you struggle to keep your eyes above his chest, gripping the curtain harder when he steps forward and says casually, “It was a long flight, I want to take a shower.”

You gape at him. “Right now?!”

He just takes a hold of the curtain, pulling it open slightly so he can step in next to you, and you’re so stunned you make no motion to stop him. And now you’re finding him towering over you in the small space of the shower, so close you can hardly breathe. All the air gets punched out of your lungs when his large hand rests on your hip, turning you so your back is facing him so he can lean down at tease in your ear, “You asked me to come in here, after all.”

All of the heat leaves your body, pooling directly between your legs at his tone. He wastes no time, lathering his hands up with soap and running them along your sides before reaching forward to cup your breasts in his hands, thumbs roaming aimlessly along your nipples, the soap foaming between his fingers.

“Were you thinking about me in the shower?” He asks, his tone dropping into something dark and dangerous. “Such a filthy girl.” He tugs at your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger making your knees tremble and the growing need between your legs even worse.

“Sa—Sakusa,” you moan, tilting your head back onto his shoulder, getting the full view of his hungry eyes boring into you.

He frowns, pinching your nipples slightly harder, reprimanding, “That isn’t what you called me earlier.”

You writhe in his embrace, gripping his arms, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with him as you correct yourself. “Kiyoomi.” He smirks at you, relenting on your nipples as reward, though continuing his soft ministrations.

You can’t help your ass arching backwards, coming into contact with his hardening member, giving him a bit of his own medicine as you grind against him. He hisses through his teeth, admonishing, “What a needy slut.”

“Fuck,” you mewl, pressing against him even harder. You can’t explain what his voice saying those things is doing to you—all you know is you need him to fucking touch you already. “Please, Kiyoomi,” you beg, lifting your arms up and around his neck behind you, your fingers twining into his wet hair. “Make a fucking mess of me.”

He groans deep in his throat, rutting up against your behind and wrapping one strong arm around your middle while the other trails towards the apex of your thighs. “Is that what you want? To be my dirty little slut?” Your fingers grip his hair even tighter, nodding embarrassingly quickly, standing up on your tiptoes to get his hand any closer to where you desperately need him.

Once his fingers reach your core, sliding up through the slick gathered between your legs and towards your clit; your knees nearly give out from under you. If it wasn’t for his arm around you keeping you up, you would have sunk to the floor at the sheer pleasure that sweeps through your body. His fingers are infinitely better than yours and having his solid frame and prominent hard-on pressing behind you almost sends you through the roof.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks quietly against the skin of your neck, his hips grinding up against your ass, which you gladly return with pressure of your own.

“Yes—yes,” you say, gasping when sinks a finger knuckle deep into your heat, quickly adding another and praising you for how well you’re taking it. He watches the space where his fingers are disappearing into you with a sinful expression, enjoying intensely how you’re practically shoving yourself onto his fingers.

“What a good girl,” he whispers, setting your skin on fire, wanting nothing more than to keep being exactly that for him. He smiles devilishly, in a way you would have never imagined he could in your wildest dreams. An almost savage glint in his eyes as he presses harshly on your clit, eliciting a choked sob out of you, and making you dig your nails into the arm wrapped around you.

“Please—,” you say, head lolling on his shoulder allowing him to finally kiss you fully. Surprising you as his tongue slides into your mouth, his fingers relentless, his free arm now helping you drive his fingers even deeper. Voice coming out in a pathetic whine that makes his cock twitch, you plead, “God—Kiyoomi, please!”

“Use your words.”

Thoughts far too hazy to be any sort of embarrassed you hold his dark gaze. “Fuck me.”

Suddenly, his fingers are out of you and he’s bending you over, the head of his cock pressing into your dripping entrance before he sheathes himself completely in you, a hiss escaping him. His head drops to rest his forehead on your shoulder, droplets from his wet hair sliding down your chest as he composes himself from how fucking amazing you feel around him.

“Fuck,” he moans, the closest he’s come to breaking his resolve from just fucking you within an inch of your life. “So tight for such a needy slut,” he grits out, hands resting on your hips as he pulls out only to thrust into you again. His fingers dig into your hips to slam your ass into his, increasing his pace to the point you can barely see straight. Your own fingers scrabble for any sort of purchase on the tiles in front of you, desperately attempting to ground yourself against his brutal pace.

“You feel so fucking good,” you praise, earning you his hand reaching down to lift your leg onto the edge of the tub allowing him to sink even deeper into you.

The lewd sound of skin slapping together, the two of you panting and murmuring nonsense to each other, and the shower continuing to run fills the space as he continues to pound ruthlessly into you is all you’ve ever dreamed about. As he litters kisses and soft bites along your spine, the pressure in your stomach builds and builds, and before it bursts you gasp, “Oh my god—Kiyoomi.”

He notices your body starting to tense up, your back arching and fingers twitching as your orgasm comes hurtling towards you. Taking the opportunity, he pulls your body up, your back flush against his chest, hips never faltering and fingers finding your clit to bring you even closer to release.

“Cum for me,” he orders, voice so cold you feel a little embarrassed by how much it turns you on. But you know that’s just how he sounds sometimes and he’s probably playing it up a bit for you. “Cum on my cock like the good little slut you are.”

That sends you tumbling over the edge, your entire body convulsing as white-hot pleasure courses through your veins, prolonged by him continuing to plunge into you. The sensation is so overwhelming you start writhing in his grip, attempting to ride it out while he holds you firmly against him restricting your movement.

He can’t hold it back much longer, your walls clamping down around him nearly made him cum on the spot, but he holds you through your orgasm, forcing you to endure the full brunt of it while he continues fucking you. Though your body relaxing against his, your fingers winding into his hair, and your voice asking him so politely to cum for you makes him lose it. He grips your hips tightly, jackhammering into you chasing his release. Eventually his hips still, thighs shuddering as he concentrates on keeping the both of you standing while he cums.

The two of you stand there in silence, water still running, as his forehead rests on your back, both of your chests heaving at the exertion you just expended. Your heart is thundering against your chest, unsure what to say and hoping he’ll say something first. He groans, relinquishing your hips from his death grip and pulling his softening cock out of you.

You really shouldn’t have been surprised by what he says first.

“We should rinse off,” he suggests, despite the fact he’s still leaning on your back, hands now resting harmlessly on your hips.

“Okay,” you murmur, reaching for the soap and moving out of his grasp. He just stands there watching you, the water streaming onto his back, a completely passive expression on his face. If it was anyone else, they might have interpreted it as boredom or that he’s uninterested but to you—he just looks content.

You motion for him to turn around and start lathering the soap along his back, relishing the free chance to roam your hands all over his incredibly built body. Peering around his shoulder, you find him with his eyes closed, the smallest smile curving his lips as he enjoys your hands massaging his back. You smile to yourself, moving on to find his shampoo and gently scrubbing it into his hair, tucking the small pleased groan he makes into the back of your brain to remember later.

After a few quiet moments he says, “The apartment’s a mess.”

That makes you frown, a sour expression adorning your face. Poking his side, you reply, “Well, you weren’t supposed to be home for another three days!” He turns around, washing the soap off his back and out of his hair while you take no time to start exploring the expanse of his chest with your soapy fingers. When he opens his eyes, looking down at you, you pout. “Can’t we leave it for tomorrow?”

As much as he dislikes that, he can’t help but agree, finding the prospect of curling up in bed with you much more enticing.

Once he’s finished, he returns the favor washing your body, and the both of you step out of the shower to dry off. You pull on the pajama’s you’d left in here for after your shower that you thought you’d be taking alone while he simply wraps the towel around his waist, making it almost impossible not to stare at him as he waits for you.

You’re surprised when he leads you to his bedroom, changing into pajama’s of his own as you slide under the covers. They smell like detergent and the faint scent of Sakusa’s body wash, wrapping around you pleasantly—you take an indulgent breath, letting the scent soak into your senses. It gets even better when he joins you, hand resting on your bare arm, fingers drawing small circles against your skin. He gives you a soft kiss to the forehead, enjoying your freshly showered body against his beneath the sheets and your fingers in his hair.

“You know I honestly didn’t think you knew how to kiss,” you joke, tapping his chin, “With the mask and all.”

He peers down at you, the subtlest glint in his eyes as he replies, “Have I changed your mind?”

Your resulting cheeky smile makes his pants feel a little tight. “I think you might need to show me again.”


	7. Kuroo Tetsurou - Ah, domesticity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request from Tumblr:  
> "Could I request a scenario with Kuroo and his s/o being really domestic and doing chores and things, and he realizes how much he loves his s/o? Thanks!"

Weekends were a blessing in this household. Not that Kuroo took advantage of them most of the time anyways. Last night he complained about his new project at work long enough that you were suspicious he was going to waste his weekend working on it like he was known to do. So, this morning, when he started shifting in bed next to you; making the usual motions to get out up, you wrapped your arms around his middle and nuzzled against his neck.

“Kitten…” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I need to be productive today.”

“It’s Saturday,” you said, your voice muffled against his skin; willing him to burrow back into the blankets with you for even a few more minutes. He sighed, glancing at the sun already shining through the bedroom window, his mind racing through the to-do list he created last night while he couldn’t fall asleep. You groaned, realizing your efforts were turning out to be futile. Blinking blearily up at him to meet his already clear and alert gaze, you conceded. “You’re allowed to be a hermit for the day if you at least spend the morning with me.”

He grinned lazily at you. “Spend the morning with you? Too high a price. How could you subject me to such torture?” You laughed, cupping his face in your hands and pulling him down to kiss you. Tangling your fingers lightly in his mussed-up hair in hopes of convincing him to give up on his ‘productive’ day. “That won’t work.” He smirked. “Good try though.”

You pouted. “Worth a shot. I guess you’ll just have to grin and bear one cup of tea with me then.”

“The horror.”

You stuck your tongue out but untangled yourself from his long limbs and threw the covers off you. Standing and stretching, you shamelessly showed off the fact you weren’t wearing anything but an old t-shirt of his and underwear. Raising an eyebrow at him enjoying the view, you prompted, “You sure about your choice?”

He swallowed thickly, yet somehow managed to betray the way his heart was thumping against his chest. “Absolutely.” Even after a few years together, the last couple sharing an apartment, he still woke up every morning feeling so utterly complete he thought his heart would burst.

You made an annoyed sound sauntering over to the doorway. “I’ll go start the hot water, Mr. Iron Will.”

A chuckle escaped him, and he watched you until you disappeared from sight; slightly regretting his stubbornness until he remembered all the things he wanted to get done today. He knows you don’t _really_ mind him working on the weekend, though sometimes you forced him to take much needed breaks; and if he did it too many weekends in a row—which was rare—you wouldn’t allow him to even _think_ about work. You understand and support his desire to succeed and reach his goals, as he did for you; maybe he would make it up to you tonight.

After rousing himself and throwing on a hoodie, he padded into the kitchen a few minutes later. Somedays, he was blatantly slapped in the face by how content he was with you—today seeming to be one of them. Watching you pour steaming water into two cups, gingerly placing teabags into each, a smile spreading across your lips when you turn around to find him standing there; he briefly thought to himself: _This is it. All I’ll ever need._

You hand his cup over, he notes that you’ve chosen his favorite tea this morning, then sit at the counter patting the seat next to you. You also opened some windows, allowing a brisk spring breeze to blow lightly through the apartment and you look like you’re enjoying the fresh air. He’s a bit at a loss for words, feeling choked by the onslaught emotions flooding him; and he’s glad for you starting the conversation asking about the project he insists on working on over the weekend.

He easily slips into raving about the new work he’s been given, he’s actually in charge of the team this time; so, he’s feeling a lot more pressure and responsibility than usual. You can’t help but smile into your mug, watching him talk excitedly about his job; his own mug momentarily forgotten on the counter. While he sometimes gets more technical than you can understand, you could listen to him talk about it for hours because _he_ loved it and you loved him.

“You’re getting that look on your face.”

You blinked. “What look?”

“That look when I’ve been talking about DNA for too long.”

He couldn’t be farther from the truth, so you waved your hand in dismissal at him. “I was just thinking if you’re going to be productive today, so should I.” You glanced at the cup in his hands. “Finished?” He placed it in your outstretched hand with a grateful smile. Standing, you gave him a knowing look. “You’re free now.”

Before you could get too far, he snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you flush against him into an embrace. “I love you. You know that?” He sighed against your hair.

“You’re going to make me drop these mugs,” you huffed. He released you, watching you make your way to the sink and place the cups next to some dishes from last night. With your back to him, you said, “And I love you too—now get out of here before I lose any and all motivation to do _anything_ today and drag you back into that bedroom.”

He grinned and headed to the room designated the shared ‘office’, his smile widening when he heard you shout down the hallway, “At least open the window! It’s beautiful out!”

Once he gets himself situated at the desk, pulling out pen and paper to write his mental to-do list down, he hears you pass by into the bedroom and he wonders if you ended up losing motivation after all. Moments later, he hears you again and then telltale sound of the washing machine starting. After that, he doesn’t notice much except for the array of papers in front of him and the whiteboard he insisted on adding to the room when the two of you moved in. It was already littered with scribblings of his jumbled thoughts from the week; a tiny pang hitting his heart upon noticing a small note of ‘ _I love you_ ’ written in the corner in your handwriting.

The two of you hadn’t woken up too late, so you’re able to get several loads of laundry done; in the meantime, vacuuming the living room, hallway, and bedroom. You avoid the office to not distract Kuroo, knowing the action of you constantly rocking back and forth with the vacuum might get him to ignore work for a while. He had this weird tendency to get all mushy whenever you started doing mundane tasks like chores around the house.

You have enough time before taking a lunch break to start folding the laundry; pressing play on a playlist you let your mind wander to blissful nothingness. That was the state Kuroo found you in when he finally emerged from the office when his stomach had started rumbling. He just stood in the doorway, arms crossed across his chest, trying not to startle you out of this picturesque view. He could have stood there watching you humming softly to the music playing from your phone, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips for hours—you looked perfectly content.

He wanted to rush over to you, gather you up in his arms and kiss every inch of skin he could; express to you without words that he felt the same way. That he could spend a hundred years in perfect bliss with you, even just doing household chores would be enough for him.

Eventually, you noticed him, jerking a bit in surprise at him just standing there watching you for who knows how long. “As _great_ as the view of me folding laundry must be—stop staring you creeper,” you teased, returning back to the shirt you had dropped in surprise at seeing him.

Taking you fully by surprise, he strides into the room and smothers you in an embrace; practically tackling you on the couch. “Kuro—oh!” He cut you off with his lips pressing against yours, a little needy; and you concluded your prior thought that he was going to get all sappy in response to this day of chores as correct. It was hard not to laugh at him because admittedly—it was adorable, and you didn’t mind the affection.

“Let’s go to the café for lunch today. It’s so nice out, we can walk, stretch our legs a bit; yeah? I don’t think I can look at another molecule for at least an hour.”

His heart swelled at the grin that spread across your face at his suggestion.

The walk was everything he needed—fresh air and talking with you. You asked him how his progress was going today, slyly asking if it was going to bleed into tomorrow. He caught the glimmer of happiness that flitted across your face when he answered ‘no’. Even if he _did_ have more to do, how could be possibly resist you after today? He prided himself on the face he had some sense of willpower, but when it came to you, he was far easier to crack.

He realized he would give anything— _anything_ , to continue making you smile and laugh for as long as he lived. Nothing made him happier than spending time with you; even after all this time, he’d never grown tired of it and didn’t think he ever would.

Your lunch together ends far too soon and he finds himself reluctantly heading back to the office. Just thinking about the mess he left in there an hour or two ago was enough to make his head start to hurt. While he tried to focus and get back into the zone again, he simply couldn’t. You were too far at the forefront of his mind and it became quite clear to him that he would much rather be spending time with _you_ right now than these pieces of paper and his own thoughts.

Gathering up his things, he placed them neatly into a drawer; out of sight and out of mind. He erased what he had on the whiteboard, leaving your small note; and left, shutting the door behind him. There was no reason for him to enter that room until the weekend was over.

You were no longer in the living room, the folded laundry placed at the end at the hallway for you to bring back to the bedroom at some point. Before entering the kitchen where the sound of running water and music intermixed was drifting from, he took the liberty of taking the laundry and putting it away for you.

Upon seeing you though, he stopped in his tracks. Overcome by the thought of: _Holy fuck. I am the luckiest man in the world._ All you’re doing is swaying gently to the music, elbow deep in dishwater; and he doesn’t know what to do with himself—smitten at the sight.

You practically throw a plate into the air when you feel hands rest on your hips followed by lips pressing to the nape of your neck. “ _Jesus_ —Kuroo! I almost smacked you with this plate.”

“I finished,” he said, hands drifting just underneath your shirt to rub small circles on your skin.

Your face lit up. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Can I help?”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Are you going to be all weird and stare at me the entire time?” He blinked in shock while a light blush crept onto his cheeks—you fought the urge to smirk, it was a rare treat to see Kuroo _blush_. You’d gotten significantly better at eliciting that response from him in the years you’d been together. “All I’m doing is washing dishes.”

“Liar, you’ve been trying to seduce me all day,” he quipped, despite having been caught red-handed in this sentimental mindset he tended to slip into on glaringly ordinary days like today.

A smirk graced your lips seeing straight through him. “Oh, if _that_ had been my goal, we wouldn’t be standing here right now Tetsurou.”

“ _Now_ you’re playing with me.”

You shrugged, laughing, “Maybe so.” Then handed him the plate you were holding. “You can help by drying the dishes. Can you handle that without getting distracted by _all this_?” You motioned jokingly to yourself, hair tied up messily and wearing an old apron to keep dirty dishwater from getting on your clothes. Clearly, you didn’t look your best today.

He drops the plate back into the sink, ignoring your cry of protest that you’d have to rewash it. “No sh,” he says cupping your cheeks with his hands. “I love you.”

“Sap.”

He leans down to press a kiss to your lips, afterwards murmuring, “Come on—say it back to me, love.”

You can’t help but grin and repeat the words to him, earning yourself another kiss.


	8. Asahi Azumane - Impress you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asahi just wants to impress you when the two gym classes combine and the activity just so happens to be volleyball. Little does he know, his plan to impress you goes awry in the worst way possible. Or so he thinks…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls enjoy this fluffy Asahi scenario that I wrote with my best friend who helps me sort through all my ideas and is there for me always LOVE U

“It has come to my attention that coach Ito is home sick today, so coach Saito will be taking both classes today.”

Your head whips up at the announcement, eyes immediately wandering to a certain ace of the men’s volleyball team that you’ve had a pathetically massive crush on since first year. And you’ve never once been in the same gym class— _miraculously_ —otherwise you think you’d have already made a fool of yourself in front of him. You’re not the most athletic person on the planet, and since Asahi must be a top athlete, there’s no reason for him to even notice you in the first place.

As long as you’re not playing volleyball, you think you can survive it. Please— _please_ let it be anything else but volleyball.

* * *

Your heart sinks upon walking into the gym, the volleyball net strung proudly across the court.

Just kill you now. Either your heart will explode from watching him up close, or from being so nervous that you’re going to look like a complete idiot. He must tone it down for gym class, right?

Across the court, you think Asahi is standing there calm, and collected; but little do you know he feels like his intestines are tying themselves into knots from his nerves. He might be able to pull it together on the court, his mind fixated on winning, but with you here as his opponent he’s not going to be able to focus.

Only adding to his nerves, Suga and Daichi are _not_ helping in the slightest. Having known about his crush on you since first year, they’re egging him on that this is his opportunity to impress you. Of course, he _wants_ to impress you, but he’s unsure if he can—or rather, if he should. This is just gym class, not some high stakes game at a tournament.

Suga assures him that he’ll get him an opening. He ‘guarantees’ by the end of the hour, you’ll be head over heels for him.

Not knowing you already _are_. You certainly don’t need any help in _that_ department.

True to his word, Suga does get him an opening. A perfect one in fact, in the form of a flawless set. So perfect, that as the ball connects with his hand, he can just feel how good his spike is going to be. It might be a little much for gym class, but it’s just this once; and he hopes you’re watching.

You are watching, kind of, from the back row where you’ve been trying to stay out of the way and touch the ball as little as possible. And you’ve allowed yourself to slip into a daze at Asahi’s perfect form, seemingly floating through the air as his hand connects perfectly with the ball. So entranced that you don’t even notice where the ball is going.

Directly at your face.

It’s then that Asahi realizes it too.

Please duck. For the love of god, _please duck_.

To his horror, you just stand there, completely unaware that you’re about to get nailed in the face. His entire being shrivels up as the audible sound of it smacking your face resounds throughout the now quiet gym. The force of it sends you flying backward onto your ass, abruptly knocking you out of your daze. Voices of worry begin to fill the silence, and as you blink your eyes open, squinting at the bright gym lights, you realize that the entire gym class has surrounded you sprawled out on the floor. The first thing that comes to your attention is the unbearable throbbing of your nose, and a tentative touch to it reveals that it’s bleeding.

Coach Saito pushes through a throng of students, concern strewn across his face. “Take it easy, don’t get up too fast.”

Asahi’s instinctive reaction is to crouch on the floor, weighed down by his guilt, hands covering his face in shame. How could he have done that to you?! He was only trying to impress you, not break your nose! One of Daichi’s hands comes to rest on his shoulder, quietly reassuring that it can’t be that bad while kicking Suga behind Asahi’s back to stop him from snickering that _of course_ Asahi hit you in the face. Just his luck.

Slowly, you sit up with Coach Saito’s help, a little blood falling from your nose before he can hand you a tissue to staunch it. Asahi thinks he might throw up seeing it drip to the floor. There’s no way in hell you’re ever going to like him now!

“Take a breath, Asahi, it’s just a nosebleed,” Daichi whispers, nudging him to get to his feet.

He takes in a sharp breath, unable to breathe properly with the weight on his chest. Abruptly, he stands, bows, and shouts at the floor, “I’m so sorry!”

You chew on your lip, unsure how to handle having his undivided attention on you. Smiling sheepishly, you assure him, your voice muffled from the tissue pressed to your nose, “It’s alright Asahi-san, I’ll be okay.”

Coach Saito sighs loudly before instructing, “Why don’t you take her to the nurse, Asahi.”

His horror morphs into unease that he has to be alone with you after nearly breaking your nose not two minutes ago. In what world is _him_ taking you to the nurse the best option? He’s the reason you have to go at all!

At this rate, Daichi knows Asahi is spiraling into a pit of despair and it’s going to be his job to drag him up out of it. Unsure if this will help or make it worse, Daichi murmurs “You can turn this around, use this time alone with her to your advantage!” And with that, shoves him forward to at least give him a physical stimulus out of his pity pit.

Asahi gives them a pleading look over his shoulder, only to be met with a reassuring expression from Daichi—and a terrifyingly stern one from Suga just behind him. With a look like that from Suga, he knows he has no choice in the matter. Taking a deep breath, he forces his feet to move towards you. He feels like his joints are creaking with each step he takes, screaming at him to stop, for he knows he’s only going to embarrass himself further by being alone with you. 

You watch him carefully as he extends his hand down to you, unsure if you’re imagining his stiffness. One thing you’re certain you’re not imagining is how you think you might pass out from how hard your heart is pounding against your chest. Being alone with him? Sounds like a dream in theory, but in all honesty, you don’t know if you’re going to be able to say a single word to him. 

He pulls you to your feet, steadying you as you stand, afraid the sudden movement might make you faint. “You alright?” He asks softly, so close to your ear you almost jump. You’ve never been this close to him before, and while you knew he was tall, you feel tiny beside him. 

Doing your best to curb the heat crawling up your neck and threatening to color your cheeks, you stutter, “Y-yes, I’m alright.” You then realize your hand is still clasped in his, dwarfed by the size of it. It’s nearly impossible to stop the redness blooming across your cheeks; Suga and Daichi are beside themselves watching the scene unfold. It becomes clear to them that not only can Asahi turn this around—he has a real chance with you. 

Slipping your hand out of his, you assure him that you’re fine to walk without help, and you both make your way out of the gym. The two of you walk in silence, not knowing what to say to each other, until inevitably Asahi becomes consumed by guilt and abruptly apologizes to you yet again. 

He nearly keels over at the small smile you give him, accepting his apology and telling him, “It’s okay, honest.” Comfortable silence befalls the two of you again until you reach the nurse’s office. 

Once inside, you explain to the nurse what happened—and Asahi is eternally grateful you don’t explicitly say _who_ hit you in the face. He wouldn’t be able to look the nurse in the eye if he knew the culprit. The nurse instructs you to sit while he goes to find an icepack and some other supplies. While you wait, your eyes wander to Asahi standing awkwardly in the doorway. 

He’s unsure if he should stay or not. Would it be weird if he did? You probably don’t even want him to stay, since he’s the reason you’re here in the first place. Yeah—he should leave. 

But as he makes his move, he’s surprised to hear your voice muffled by the paper towel shoved against your nose say, “Can you stay?” 

Not only is he surprised, you are as well. _Did you really just say that?!_ You’re not doing a very good job of keeping your crush a secret! You bite your lip, wondering if he’s going to grant your request, hoping with all your heart he will. 

His heart skips a beat in his chest, causing his steps to pause. So, he takes a seat beside you, reflexively apologizing for what feels like the millionth time since walking you here. He can’t muster the courage to look at you, eyes glued to his hands currently clasped in his lap. You notice his knuckles are white from how hard he’s holding them together. 

Is he… _nervous_? 

You open your mouth to say something, after all, when is the next time you’re going to find yourself with him alone? But you’re interrupted by the nurse returning and conducting a few tests to make sure you don’t have a concussion. 

Ten minutes later, you’re cleared to go with just an icepack and some ibuprofen. As you gather your things, Asahi thinks he better make the best out of his remaining time with you. But the only thing he can manage is a stale, “I’m really sorry. I’m glad you’re okay though.” 

You seem unbothered by his impulsive apologizing, giving him another smile, chuckling, “It’s okay. I’m sure you weren’t aiming for me, right?” 

His face flushes without his permission and he’s certain he’s going to pass out from how fast his heart is racing right now. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, he stumbles, “Oh, uh—no, I—I wasn’t.” He closes his eyes, wondering if he can garner the courage to confess what he was _really_ doing. “I was…actually…trying to impress you.” He quickly mumbles the last few words, hoping you’ll think nothing of it. 

You blink, stunned at what you think you’ve just heard. Did he just…say…he was trying to _impress_ you?! You can’t help the grin that spreads across your lips, and his eyes widen, completely unsure what this reaction means. It’s then that you start laughing, and he really doesn’t know what to do with that. Are you— _amused_?

“Impress _me?_ ” You giggle. “You don’t have to do _anything_ to impress me, I mean—look at you!” You gesture wildly in his general direction, the image of him floating through the air to spike the ball with the power of the ace behind him flooding your mind. 

His mouth drops open. 

Your heart slams to a halt in your chest. Did you really just say that…out loud? “Oh—oh, I didn’t—,” your voice falls silent, totally embarrassed that you just _actually_ said that to him. Even worse when a small smile lights up his face. 

“Would you want to come to a volleyball game sometime?” 

Your throat dries up and a small voice inside you urges you to say yes. 

So, you do.


	9. Iwaizumi Hajime - Burnt Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School has completely wiped you out, and just when you need it most Iwaizumi is there to pick you back up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen im in vet school taking 27 credits and this past week was an absolute shit show so i wrote this in a hour bc i really needed some comfort, hope you can find some in it as well 💖

Iwaizumi finds you curled up on the couch when he gets home, wrapped up in a blanket so thoroughly all he can see is your face. If he couldn’t see your expression, he might’ve laughed at you. Instead, his heart stumbles in his chest at your impossibly tired and broken face. He knows these past couple weeks in school have been hard for you, but judging from your demeanor, you’ve hit the breaking point.

You slide your ghostly face over to him, giving him a quiet greeting before turning your attention back to the TV that he’s not even sure you’re watching. He carefully slides his shoes off, walks silently into the living room and picks your legs up to he can sit on the couch next to you. You barely pay him any mind.

“What are you watching?” He asks after a moment.

There’s no reply from you for a few seconds. Then a quiet, “Just some baking show,” emits from the bundle of blankets.

He closes his eyes slowly, worming his hands underneath the blanket to set them on your bare legs. Again, you pay him no mind. Not until he starts rubbing his hands along your calves, massaging them between his fingers before moving up your legs and to your thighs.

It’s then that you know he’s knows something is up. Rarely does he ever indulge you in the magic of his hands—only when he knows you’re wound up about something or you convince him _very_ thoroughly does he spoil you. He wonders how long it will take for you to speak up. Similarly, he knows that _you_ know he’s onto you.

“Hajime?” You say quietly, still unmoving from your blanket burrito.

“Yes?”

Now a large huff escapes you, but it stutters halfway through, indicating you’re attempting not to cry. “School really sucks.” Is all you manage to say through your trembling lips that he can’t see.

He sighs deeply through his nose, his hands still moving methodically along your legs. “I know sweetheart.” He knows that some days— _most_ days its torture for you to watch him go to work every day while you’re still stuck in some classroom. He knows it isn’t easy when he can kick back for the night while you retreat back to the office to hunch over your computer for a few more hours.

Very slowly, you rise from the blankets, shifting so that you can straddle his lap and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his neck. He’s warm and solid and his scent is overwhelmingly comforting to you. It also helps that his hands spread across your back and start working into the muscles of it. Only when your body starts shaking ever so slightly does he pause his ministrations.

Through muffled sniffles you say, “I did terrible on another test and now I can’t stop thinking about it and I know I shouldn’t dwell on it, but I can’t _stop_. And all I can think about is that I’m not good enough and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. Why am I even doing this to myself?”

He guides your head off his neck, holding it in his hands and forcing you to look at him. Seeing you like this, tears rolling down your cheeks over some damn _test_ that he knows means a lot to you makes his heart break. He looks at you seriously, his deep brown eyes boring into you when he says, “Are you going to make me say it?” You huff, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks, lips trembling with the effort to not break out into full blown sobbing. It’s so _stupid_ —you _know_ it is. But you can’t help it. Not when you put so much time and energy into something just to get knocked down. Continuing to hold your head in his hands, he smooths his thumbs across your cheeks, wiping some tears away.

“You are one of the smartest people I know. And I am so proud of you. I know it’s hard. I’ll tell you every day that you’re good enough if that’s what it takes. And as much as you don’t want to hear it, it’s just a test.”

A broken laugh escapes you at how sincere he is. He presses his lips to your forehead before letting you nestle up next to him again, your tears subsiding in the comfort and solace of his arms. “I know I’m being ridiculous,” you mutter, knowing just how silly this is. But it was just the last straw from the last few weeks of shoving as much information into your brain as possible every day. You spend almost every waking moment thinking about school and it’s frustrating to feel like it’s all for nothing.

“Maybe just a little bit,” he chuckles pressing another kiss to your temple, his hands moving on to rub your shoulders. He pulls you away from him a little so he can give you a proper kiss, his skilled hands wrapping around the back of your neck to press you close to him telling you _exactly_ what he thinks about that nagging thought of ‘not good enough’ he knows you have.

Your hands drift down to his shirt, fingers curling into his collar, allowing yourself to _let it go_. It’s one test. It’s not the end of the world. And it certainly doesn’t define your worth.

“Can I be honest and say that I hate you just a _little_ bit when you come back from work and can just leave everything at the door?”

His forehead rests against yours, a smile curving his lips as he shakes his head. “Yes, you’re allowed to say that.”

You sag against him, doing your best not to start spiraling again as you think about everything waiting for you to do in the other room. “Thinking about looking at my computer screen for one more second makes me what to die.”

Now a full-blown laugh escapes him. “Then don’t,” he says. “Take the night off.”

You listen to him, letting yourself sink into his embrace and have him tell you about his day at work. He insists on making the two of you dinner without you lifting a single finger, forcing you to sit at the counter keeping him company while he cooks. He lets you talk about school, getting it all off your chest, and feeling like an enormous weight has been lifted off your shoulders. And you secretly promise yourself you won’t let it build up only to explode like this again.

And that night he _thoroughly_ pampers you. Once in a blue moon does he ever indulge you like this, his rough yet familiar hands working out all the knots you build from sitting at your desk for hours—feather light kisses following each pass of his hands. All while murmuring compliments to you, never once letting you think you aren’t good enough.

Afterwards, finding yourself wrapped up in his arms, legs tangled beneath the sheets as you hold his head in your hands lightly caressing his cheeks. His eyes are closed in pure bliss when you tell him, “I love you, Hajime.”

He shifts to hold you even closer to him, and barely above a whisper he replies, “I love you too.”


	10. (NSFW) Kuroo Tetsurou - Alone in the lab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request from Tumblr:  
> "Please can I request Kuroo and his girlfriend are both medical students and one day when they’re particularly alone in one of the college labs or classrooms he somehow convince her that it’s okay to have a quickie here even though she was scared that someone may find out or caught them at it? Thx"

Trying his best not to groan, Kuroo leaned back in his chair; rubbing his burning eyes and then running a hand through his hair. The sun set hours ago, and the fluorescent lights were beginning to give him a headache. He glanced at you, back to him, writing something on the whiteboard at the front of the room; drawing a line through the body diagram you’d sketched. He knew you were saying something to him, trying to teach, since he asked for clarification about some circulation pathway he kept getting mixed up.

But really all he could focus on was the way your body moved, hands motioning wildly as you spoke; crossing to the other side of the whiteboard to point something out. _Fuck—_ you were so goddamn smart; he’d been absolutely powerless against you those first weeks of medical school. A total goner when he overhead you just go off on another male student who claimed females inherently weren’t cut out for the medical profession; utterly destroying the kid with your knowledge and passion. He thought he wasn’t going to be able to handle it when you’d ended up in the same lab group as him, but by some miracle, you hadn’t thought he was a total imbecile and agreed to go on a date with him. And now here you were at the end of the year, dating since then.

That was how you found him when you turned around, dazed in his chair; looking like his mind was on anything _but_ the circulatory system. “Were you even listening?” You demanded, getting his attention by striding in front of his table and waving a hand in front of his face.

He blinked and then grinned sheepishly. “I don’t know how much more information I can stuff up here tonight,” he motioned to his temple.

You frowned. “We still have the muscular system to do.”

He leaned his head back letting out a groan. You and he have been in the anatomy lab for hours studying for your final in a few days and he was convinced his brain was going to explode. He couldn’t fathom how you could muster the willpower to continue.

“I think my eyeballs are going to shrivel up and die,” he claimed, watching you move to his side of the table to stand before him and offer a hand.

Pulling him up out of his chair, you rolled your eyes. “I don’t think that’s possible.” Leading him to join you at the whiteboard, you started explaining what was on it again but _damn him_ —he let his mind wander again, his attention focusing on your lips. _God_ how long has it been since he last kissed you beyond anything but a tender peck? How long since his hands had free range over every dip and curve of your body; soft pleas of his name in the cadence of your voice filling the air?

Oh, he was _really_ screwed now if that’s the direction his thoughts were taking.

Carefully, he sidled closer allowing his hand to drift down the expanse of your back before settling on your ass. Words dying in your throat, your gaze slid over to him suspiciously. “Kuroo…” you said in a low voice. “What…are you…doing?”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “I’ve thought of a much more interactive way of studying.”

You lifted a brow, asking, “Oh, have you?”

He plucked the whiteboard marker from you with his free hand, setting it onto the ledge while turning you to face his chest. Pulling you flush against him, he moved his hand to firmly cup both of your cheeks and lowering his head to nuzzle into your neck. He trailed kisses from beneath your ear towards your collarbone, between them saying, “I have. What muscle is this?”

Attempting to maintain your composure, your pressed your hands to his chest trying to push away from him. “I don’t think this is very conducive to our learning.”

He held firm, murmuring, “Humor me.” His warm breath sending goosebumps along your skin.

“Someone could walk in at any moment,” you hissed, pushing against him a bit harder; cursing your dumb heart for beating wildly against your chest at his suggestion. On any given day it was impossible to resist him but since you couldn’t even remember the last time he touched you like this, it would be a near herculean task to keep him at bay.

He nipped gently at your ear, hands drifting underneath your shirt to skim along the sensitive skin of your back, hoping to persuade you. “We haven’t seen a soul all day.”

You paused. _Oh—what the hell_. Now, instead of pushing him away, your fingers curled into his shirt; thoughts clouding as to what _exactly_ he had in mind.

“The sternocleidomastoid.”

You felt him grin against your neck. “I love it when you talk smart to me,” he whispered silkily, earning a scoff from you. “Tell me again.”

“You fucking weirdo—”

“Just do it,” he said, pressing himself a little harder against you; you were so close to caving he just had to nudge you a bit farther.

An eyeroll from you, but you complied. You didn’t think with that pressure against your leg there was a point to you resisting him much longer anyways. Rising to your toes to reach his ear, you wrapped your arms around him lacing your fingers through his hair at the back of his neck eliciting a low groan from him. “The sternocleidomastoid.”

“ _Fuck_.” He moaned, gripping the backs of your thighs to lift you off the ground and wrap your legs around him, he carried you to the nearest table. His mouth moved from your neck, up your jaw to your lips; wasting no time to start trailing kisses down your sternum, pushing your shirt up to gain access to your stomach. A choked breath escaped you as his hand delved under your sweatpants to palm you through your underwear; he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth effectively making you melt beneath him.

He found great pleasure in the small sound he got from you as he lazily dragged one finger up through your folds, a groan emitting from him at the slickness already gathered there. “So wet,” he whispered, forehead pressed against yours.

“We have to be qui—" He stopped just below your clit to drag his finger back down, your sentence cut off to plead, “Ah—Kuroo… _please_.” Teasing you further he avoided the part of you that was _aching_ to be touched, enjoying you squirming impatiently underneath him. “This is no time for your endless teasing.”

He smirked. “Why don’t you tell me what you want then?”

“Oh jesus _fuck_ —” You whimpered, thighs trembling at his unhurried pace. “I—” a huff, “I— _oh_ —please Tetsu just touch me already.” It had been _weeks_ since he last touched you and you were burning up, desperate for any sort of friction.

Now you were playing unfair, throwing out his nickname like that; he was unable to quell the low growl that emanated from his throat. He finally granted your request, dragging a calloused finger up against the hardened bud of your clit; drinking in the sight of your entire body reacting to his touch—back arching with your head pressed against the table exposing the glorious expanse of your throat for him to latch onto.

Fingers scrabbling at his back for any sort of purchase to push your hips against his hand, trying to urge him to pick up any pace faster than the agonizingly slow one he was currently torturing you with. He deeply enjoyed your desperation as he made a mark at the juncture of your throat and shoulder that you would surely scold him for later. Not particularly caring, he grazed his teeth gently along the column of your throat to make steady work on another one.

Abruptly, you tangled your fingers into his dark mass of hair to tug his gaze up to meet yours; he had to bite back his groan at the state of you. Chest heaving, cheeks flushed, and eyes wild with the thrill of what you two were doing—you would be the gods-damned end of him.

“What do I have to do to get you to go any _faster_ ,” you rasped breathily, although seemingly annoyed he knew you were loving every second of this.

His eyes glinted. “Nothing—absolutely nothing,” he said, sinking two fingers knuckle deep in you. He thought he was going to lose it at the most beautiful moan that he provoked from you. But he somehow maintained his lazy pace, much to your despair. Though his fingers were certainly granting you the stimulation you were begging for, especially when he’d curl them ever so slightly; forcing you to grip his back to find any sort of sanity left in you—it wasn’t _enough_.

“Ah—please,” a sigh, “Kuroo—I need,” a broken moan, “ _Tetsu—please_.”

There was a limit to his teasing, and it normally broke right around the time he successfully made you into an incoherent mess. So, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants, he swiftly tugged them off you to reveal some simple panties leaving him a bit breathless— _god_ you were gorgeous, and you were _his_. “You know,” he drawled, pulling them slowly down, “I’ve wanted to ruin you on one of these tables since the day I met you.”

He watched color bloom along your neck, using your hands to cover your face in embarrassment. “Oh, stuff it,” you scoffed.

That wouldn’t do. Prying your hands apart, he forced you to look at him. “I mean it,” he said, rising from being hunched over you and striding over to his backpack. “I’ll prove it.” You lifted yourself to your elbows to watch him rifle through his backpack before extracting a small rectangular package. “This _definitely_ hasn’t been in my backpack since the first week of school.”

A smile rose to your features. “Please tell me you’ve at least replaced it since then.”

“Of course, I have,” he said, leaning over you once again; his warm breath fanning your face. “I’m not an idiot.”

Now a laugh bubbled up from your chest and fucking _hell_ —it struck him that he was the luckiest man alive to have this stunning, smartass, genius person in his life. “Well?” You prompted, trailing a hand down his chest towards his groin. “Are you finished teasing me?”

He settled his hands at your waist, thumbing the hem of your underwear. “Me? A tease? Never,” he said planting a kiss to your neck.

“You’re insufferable.”

He just grinned devilishly before swiftly removing his own clothing, finally letting his painfully hard cock free from the confines of his pants. He let you nimbly roll the condom on, taking an extreme amount of mental fortitude not to shudder at your touch; before practically ripping your underwear off. He didn’t bother with easing into it, the two of you already fairly comfortable with each other, and judging by the deep moan filling the room—you wouldn’t have been too pleased with anything less than him sinking his entire length into you.

Bracing his forearms on the table on either side of you, he moved his hips; breath coming out in short bursts as he tried to grasp at his last thread of control. “ _Tetsu_ ,” you purred— causing his grip on that control to slip. “Fuck me.”

A growl ripped from him, any inkling of control dissipating with it. He slammed into you, his thighs trembling from how exquisitely tight you were around him; your nails raking down his spine and head thrown back in pure ecstasy. If someone walked in on the two of you, he didn’t think either of you would notice or care. He picked up on your body language; toes curling, grip tightening momentarily on him, and breath shortening; he didn’t let up.

Continuing to pound into you, deeper with each thrust, hitting you _just_ right—your eyes rolled back into your head before completely shattering in his arms. Limbs twitching as waves of pleasure wracked through you; you could barely hang on to him with the force of your orgasm coursing through you. He just took your face into his hands, kissing you; stealing your breath—the motion of his hips showing no signs of slowing. Until he abruptly stilled, legs shaking, panting against your neck; his cock twitching inside you.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered. Then lifted his head to meet your gaze, and you both start chuckling at the situation you’d put yourselves in. Both of you panting between laughs, he finally said, “I can’t believe I convinced you to do that.” 

You shoved his shoulder as he pulled out, a sheepish grin on your face. “Shut up.” Wincing at the twinge of soreness in your thighs from having them wrapped around him, you stood, and in a flurry of skin and clothes, you straightened yourself motioning for him to do the same. You shoved his backpack into his arms, ignoring his amused expression; slung yours over a shoulder and then dragged him from the lab—intent on _studying_ the rest of his anatomy for the remainder of the night.


	11. (NSFW) Kuroo Tetsurou - You weren't supposed to hear that!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another installment of the trope of your roommate hears you moaning their name whilst your fingers are between your legs.
> 
> enjoy :)
> 
> p.s can you tell i like kuroo lol

Being roommates with Kuroo Tetsurou isn’t difficult. He works strange hours, sometimes staying at the office well after you’ve gone to bed, holes up in the office in the apartment, and goes on business trips probably two to three times a month. Honestly, you feel like you barely have a roommate with how often he’s gone. And when he is around, the two of you get along perfectly. So, yes—being roommates with him isn’t hard. Except for one teeny tiny yet oh so important detail—you’re pathetically in love with him.

The two of you met near the tail end of college and when he’d asked you to be his roommate after graduation, it was an easy decision. However, nowadays, you’re finding yourself regretting ever saying yes. It’s almost impossible to get over someone you _live_ with. Particularly when that person feels so off-limits solely based on your living situation.

The fact that he’s gone so frequently helps your dilemma somewhat. But in those rare moments he _is_ home, you get painfully reminded why you’re so in love with him in the first place and fall even deeper. He’s easy to get along with. He’s funny. He’s hard-working and passionate. Those are only a few things you can name that draw you to him. And just to top it all off—he’s absolutely drop-dead gorgeous. You have no idea how you can act so unsuspicious around him. And you wonder every day how such a perfect man exists.

Your lease isn’t up for another half a year, and you aren’t even sure you can bring yourself to leave when the time comes either. You don’t want him out of your life. On the contrary, you very much want him _in_ your life.

It’s gotten to the point now you can’t even stomach satiating your needs with someone else. It doesn’t feel fair to them when you know you’ll just think about _him_ the entire time. So, sue you that you’ve resorted to the point of touching yourself to the thought of him.

And it’s rather easy to do when he isn’t home. Especially when you know he won’t be home for a few more days. You used to keep it quiet and contain yourself, feeling a little embarrassed at what you’re doing, but recently you’ve gotten bolder and more vocal.

He’s been gone on a business trip since Wednesday and won’t be home for another few days yet and you don’t want to waste your opportunity while he’s gone. So, Friday night, you settle into your bed atop the covers wearing your nicest underwear and one of his old T-shirts he gave you a while back, closing your eyes and let your thoughts drift to him.

It’s almost too easy for you to picture him now. You can see him so clearly, imagining him at the end of your bed, his golden eyes glinting at the sight of you as his lips curve into a smirk that makes heat pool in your core. Slowly, you run your hands along your thighs, pretending it’s his large and calloused ones instead. You rub yourself briefly over your underwear, imagining his towering frame above yours, letting your thoughts run wild with the filthy things you want him to say to you. Your other hand drifts under the T-shirt to play with your nipples while you finally delve your hand past the waistband and run a finger through the wetness gathered between your legs.

An involuntary sigh escapes you, so lost in your own fantasy that you don’t hear the front door open and close. Nor the telltale sign of Kuroo tossing his keys onto the counter. No—instead, you continue your ministrations, your fingers increasing their pace with the thought of Kuroo telling you just how good you’re being for him. “ _Fuck_ ,” you moan into what you think is an empty apartment.

Kuroo’s ears perk up at the sound of your voice emanating from your bedroom. It was pretty quiet, so he doesn’t think much of it and assumes you heard him enter the apartment. It’s not too late, but he guesses you’ve turned in for the night and he figures he’ll just surprise you tomorrow morning. The volleyball game he was supposed to watch got cancelled due to extenuating circumstances, so he was allowed to return home early.

He won’t admit it, but he was kind of hoping he’d come home to you sitting on the couch watching a movie as you so often do on Friday nights so he could see your face when he arrived. He sighs, it’ll just have to wait till tomorrow, he supposes. Maybe he’ll surprise you with breakfast or something. His attention is caught again by soft noises drifting down the hallway from your bedroom and he wonders what the fuck you’re doing.

Tiptoeing down the hallway he gets closer to your door, eyes widening when he realizes just _exactly_ what the noises you are making are. Almost immediately, his pants feel _far_ too tight and he covers his mouth, trying to control his breathing and _not_ let a picture of what you look like in there flood his mind. He fails miserably.

He can’t blame you. He wasn’t supposed to be home for another few days, so you probably thought you had the apartment to yourself tonight. And you must’ve not heard him come in. He starts to back away, retreating to his room to leave you be. God—he’s going to think about this for weeks. For months now, he’s had no one but you on his mind.

And all he can picture now is you sprawled out on your bed, your hand between your legs while you pleasure yourself. And he can’t help wondering what you’re thinking about. His fantasies allow him to think that you’re thinking about _him_ , and he knows he’s done for.

He takes one step, then another, then freezes entirely when he hears what comes out of your room next.

“ _Tetsurou…_ ,” you sigh loudly, plunging your fingers deep inside you, trying your best to imagine what it would feel like to have his fingers inside you instead.

Kuroo’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. All the blood drains from him, pooling at his groin, his dick now pressing uncomfortably against his slacks. He has to stifle the choking noise he involuntarily makes, hoping you didn’t hear him.

_Holy fuck_.

Is this real life?

He has no fucking clue what to do. Does he go in there and inevitably scare the shit out of you? Or does he just forget this ever happened?

He only hesitates for a moment, figuring the universe gave him this opportunity for a reason. So, he opts for entering your bedroom with little warning, giving you the scare of your fucking life.

You rip your hand out of your underwear, scrambling up and off your bed defensively at the sudden intrusion. “What the fuck Kuroo!” You shout, your heart thundering against your chest wondering why the hell he didn’t fucking _knock_ and more importantly—did he hear you?

The two of you just stare at each other for a second, and you hate how much his intense gaze is _not_ making the situation between your legs any better. His pupils are blown wider than you ever seen them before, eyes roving up and down your form, drinking in the sight of you wearing nothing but _his_ T-shirt and some unbearably flimsy panties. He’s awestruck.

The silence stretches on for too long, so you panic. “Well don’t just stand there! Get out!”

He lifts a brow, his expression morphing into something almost feral. “Do you really want me to leave?”

Your thundering heart slams to a halt at his words.

_Oh god, he heard you_.

Now you really panic. “I—Kuroo, you should…we shouldn’t—!” He strides across the room and your knees feel weak that he’s _actually_ here now towering over you. You have no idea what to do with yourself or where to look as he lightly grips your chin to make you look at him.

“I want you,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing against yours.

You have to be dreaming.

But you aren’t as he lowers his lips to yours, his mouth molding onto yours while his hands snake around you to squeeze your ass. And when he pulls away, he says, “Tell me you want me too.”

A breathless, “Yes,” is about all you can manage through the haze forming around your brain.

“Good.” Then he steps away from you, his golden eyes raking over your form once again while he smiles devilishly. “Now show me what you were doing before I so rudely interrupted you.” Your eyes widen realizing what he’s asking you to do. Your mouth opens to protest as he takes a seat in your desk chair at the foot of the bed. “Show me what made you say my name so prettily like that,” he instructs again, ignoring your objections. He merely looks at you, promising, “Then I’ll show you how _I’ll_ make you say my name.”

You nearly combust right there.

Garnering your courage, you crawl back onto your bed, sit back against the pillows, slide your panties off and spread your legs for him. Trying to get back into the mood you were in, you use the _actual_ image of him sitting at the end of your bed gazing at you hotly to fuel your desire. Dipping your hand between your legs again, you run a finger along your embarrassingly wet core, a soft moan escaping you as your head tilts back against the pillows.

Kuroo watches you intently, his attention fixated on your fingers rubbing small circles along your clit, the other hand pinching your nipples through _his_ shirt. Your soft, supple thighs trembling so slightly; he wants to fucking _sink_ his teeth into them. And he can’t help it, palming his cock through his pants, a quiet grunt emitting from him at the much-needed friction. That only serves to excite you further, sinking your fingers knuckle deep into your tight heat, your pleased sigh filling Kuroo’s ears.

He could listen to you all night long, but as much as he wants to tease you, he realizes he has _plenty_ of time for that. Right now, all he wants to do is _touch_ you and make you say his name over and over again. “Fuck,” he groans, getting up from the chair and kneeling onto the bed, replacing your hand with his own, breathing heavily through his nose realizing just how fucking _wet_ you are.

You look up at him through your eyelashes, already completely drowning in the sensation of _his_ fingers touching you and not just you imagining them. And they are so much better than you ever thought. Long and deft, still calloused from his years playing volleyball—your eyes almost roll back into your head when he pays attention to your clit. Rubbing small, tender circles just like you were, but having _him_ do it is infinitely better.

He lowers his head to capture your lips in a kiss, his body following to press against you; the warmth and solidness of him beside you nearly sending you into overdrive. Particularly when he moves his lips across your jaw and down your neck, using his free hand to bunch your shirt up to allow him access to your breasts.

The sigh you heave as he lips close around one of your nipples makes him smile against your skin, dragging his teeth along the pert bud, drawing a short gasp from you. He finds immense pleasure in how your hands tangle in his dark hair, your nails raking against his scalp as you moan, “Oh, Tetsurou…”

That’s exactly what he wants to hear.

He presses a finger into you, watching how your face contorts into ecstasy—eyes closed, head pressed back into the pillows, and mouth open as you gasp for air. Your eyes widen abruptly, snapping to meet his gaze as your fingers tighten in his hair when he slides another finger in, praising you thoroughly at just how good you are being for him.

God—you feel so unbelievably debauched laying here almost completely naked whilst Kuroo is still fully dressed in his suit and tie. But with the predatory look he’s giving you, you can’t find it in yourself to care. Especially when you curl your fingers around his tie and pull him to kiss you again, his eyes dancing wildly when you plead, “Please, Kuroo—fuck me.”

He smirks insufferably, and if it was anyone else you might’ve thought it was ridiculous but when he replies, “Only because you asked so nicely,” your entire body tingles from anticipation. He removes his fingers from you, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt all while you watch him like you want to devour him. Your hands spreading along his now bare chest, encircling his neck and tugging him back to you to fit your mouth to his again.

The low groan he makes as your slide your tongue into his mouth, your fingers knotting into the hair at the nape of his neck makes the ache between your legs unbearably clear to you. So, you slide your hands down to his waist and start unbuckling his belt while his lips drift to your neck, sucking on the soft space where your neck meets your shoulders.

“Eager?” He grins, nipping gently at your skin as he helps you take his belt off.

That earns him you cupping his cock in his pants eliciting a choked groan from him as his body shudders involuntarily. “I’m not the only one,” you tease breathily against his ear.

Then you’re undoing the button and zipper of his pants for him, letting him awkwardly step off the bed to rid himself of them completely. You’re unfazed, staring at him pointedly, your gaze traveling down his form and snagging on the bulge now protruding from his boxers. Without a word, you rise to your knees, your fingers gripping his waistband to tug them off him. He chuckles quietly as you pull him back down to you, letting him slot himself between your legs and grind his hips against you.

He rubs the head of his cock along your entrance before slowly pushing in, sighs of ecstasy leaving the both of you as his hips meet yours and he’s fully seated inside of you.

“Fucking _hell_ ,” he rasps, his voice lowering enough that your entire body is set ablaze at the sound. His head dips so his bangs cover his eyes as he drags out of you agonizingly slowly before plunging back into you. The effect you’re having on him is intoxicating, and when your fingers weave their way back into his hair to bring his lips to yours, he can’t help sighing against you. Not as he thrusts again, taking the opportunity of your mouth opening to exhale to slide his tongue inside your mouth and fully ravish you.

You hardly know what to do with yourself. The bliss of him fucking you at this increasing pace seeps into your brain and soon you’re babbling complete nonsense to him that seems to drive him fucking _wild_. Gripping his shoulders hard enough you’re sure you’re going to leave marks on them, you choke, “Oh my _god_ —Tetsu don’t stop, please…”

“Yeah?” He teases, his forehead pressed against yours, both of them damp from exertion as he drives ruthlessly into you, the speed and force of his thrusts unlike anything you’ve experienced before. “You look so fucking good,” he praises, lifting both your legs so he can reach even deeper inside you, the look in his eyes pure sin. “Look at you, taking my cock so well. Would you think about me while I was gone, hm? Is this what you were thinking about earlier?”

All you can do is mewl in response, body shuddering as his hand comes around your thigh to rub meticulous circles on your clit while he continues to fuck you so thoroughly and deeply the synapses of your brain are short-circuiting. Your fingers grasp at anything to keep you grounded, fingernails digging into the muscles of his arms while you desperately hold on to the last thread of sanity you have.

“That’s it,” he drawls, the pace of his fingers and hips showing no signs of stopping. “You want to cum?” He asks, so simply as if he’s _not_ fucking your brains out right now.

“Fuck!” You shout, fingers releasing him to grip the bedsheets beneath you so tightly your knuckles turn white. “Yes!”

“You want to cum on my cock?”

You can barely fucking _take_ it anymore. Your brain complete mush except for your desperate need for release. “I— _fuck_ —Tetsurou, please!”

He smiles dangerously down at you, watching your eyes grow wide as he says, “Well, how can I say no when you ask so politely like that?” Then he presses your knees to your ears, and despite your thighs protesting you about lose your fucking _mind_.

It hits you like a goddamn train, your vision staining white as your orgasm floods through you—your body writhing so violently that Kuroo has to hold you in a vice grip to keep you from popping off his cock as he chases his own release. Your mouth opens in a silent plea as he pounds into you, the sounds of his carnal groans filling the air until he finally stills and shoves himself deeply into your heat, his entire body tensing suddenly and his vice-like grip around you tightening enough that you let out a grunt of surprise.

A minute later, he releases you, letting you stretch your legs out, a soft groan escaping you at the stiffness. One he doesn’t miss. “Sorry, are you okay?” He asks, pressing a kiss to one of your thighs before he lowers it down to the mattress.

You laugh quietly, amazed at how natural that all felt. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long time since anyone’s folded me into a pretzel like that.”

He smiles, one so soft and loving it sends your heart fluttering inside your chest. Though his next words are far from innocent. “Start stretching.” That makes you throw your head back in laughter, wondering just when the two of you caught feelings for the other and how long you’ve been missing out on this. Thoroughly enjoying you laughing without a care in the world, he grins, rises from the bed and holds a hand out to you. “Shower?”

That only makes your smile grow, not hesitating to take his hand and saying, “Absolutely.” Knowing full well your ‘shower’ won’t be much of a shower at all.


	12. (NSFW) Ushijima Wakatoshi - You weren't supposed to hear that!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ushijima's turn for 'you weren't supposed to hear that!' except this time, you walk in on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, this is my most recent work, and is the most representative of how i write now and will be going forward!  
> everything else up until this point were older fics (up to 2 years old oops), but i still like them and i hope you did too :)

Being Ushijima’s roommate is fairly simple. He’s easy to get along with once you get past his jarring frankness and strict regime. Seriously, the guy never changes his routine; working out at 6am, breakfast at 8, leaving for practice at 9, home at 5, dinner at 7, and in bed by 9 o’clock. He’s a machine, but you don’t mind his predictability. It certainly makes your life easier being able to plan around his tried-and-true schedule.

You saw his ad for a roommate a few months ago when you were desperate to get out of your parents’ house and into the world. They weren’t too keen on the idea of you living with a man, but upon meeting Ushijima, they changed their minds quickly. Neither of them able to believe that stoic Ushijima Wakatoshi would ever lay a hand on you. Plus, the deal was far too good to pass up, he is _seriously_ underselling the room you’re currently renting; and there’s the bonus that he’s frequently absent at away games, leaving the entire apartment for you to enjoy alone.

You learned quickly to keep your mouth shut on who exactly your roommate is, never inviting anyone over anymore in fear of them finding out from the various volleyball paraphernalia Ushijima so sparsely decorates the apartment with. It became difficult for you to tell if people you just met actually liked you, or if they just wanted a glimpse of the infamous Ushijima Wakatoshi and maybe an autograph. And don’t even get you _started_ on his fangirls that he’s so oblivious about.

To your surprise, he was indifferent about having a roommate of the opposite sex. You thought for sure he’d try to ‘keep your honor’ or some shit like that, but all he’d asked you was what your job was to make sure you can pay rent, if you were tidy, and if you didn’t mind being alone. He’d seemed satisfied with your answers, and you’d moved in the following week.

The first and only time Ushijima has someone over, you get home from work surprised to see an interesting looking character standing in the kitchen across from him. They both look up at you, Ushijima giving you a slight nod in greeting while a wide smile spreads across his friends’ face.

“Ushiwaka! You didn’t mention your roommate is that pretty!”

Ushijima blinks as if he’s never considered that about you before, while you chuckle. “Ushi…waka?” You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone refer to him in such a casual manner before.

The red-head beams, slinging an arm around Ushijima that he surprisingly allows. “Yup, me and Wakatoshi have been friends since high school!”

Now it’s your turn to blink, never having expected Ushijima to have friends outside of volleyball. Especially not ones who call him by his first name. In fact, you don’t even know if he considers any of his teammate’s friends either. He doesn’t spend any time with them outside of volleyball (that you know of) and so far, this is the first person he’s brought to the apartment since you moved in.

“Well,” the visitor nudges Ushijima in the side, who’s expression hasn’t changed throughout this entire interaction. “Are you going to introduce me or what?”

Finally, Ushijima speaks, his deep voice rumbling through your chest as he says, “This is Tendo, we played volleyball together in high school.” He doesn’t show it, but he notices your piqued interest at that information.

“Oh?” You say, “Do you still play?”

Tendo waves his hand dismissively, “Nah, it wasn’t for me. And I’m nothing compared to golden boy over here.”

You try to hide your amusement. This is definitely not what you were expecting from one of Ushijima’s friends. Tendo is rather enjoyable and chatty, much unlike the stone of a man sitting beside him.

“Tendo is a chocolatier in Paris,” Ushijima supplies.

Now you can’t hide your surprise. “Wow! That’s really amazing. What are you doing in Japan then?”

“Just visiting,” he beams. “And of course, I had to see my best friend Wakatoshi-kun.”

“Are you going to his game tomorrow?” You ask, ignoring the way Ushijima’s attention focuses on you. He didn’t think you paid much attention to his volleyball schedule besides when he’s going to be away.

Tendo nods excitedly. “Wouldn’t miss it! You should come too!”

You open your mouth to give some excuse, but then close it again at Tendo’s expectant expression. You bite your lip nervously; in the time you’ve been living with Ushijima you’ve never once actually seen him play. There’s a part of you that avoids it, fearful you might become one of his dreaded fangirls. But you can’t refuse Tendo’s invitation, and to Ushijima’s surprise, you agree to attend.

Clapping his hands together Tendo says, “We get to sit in Ushiwaka’s _special_ seats! Maybe I’ll bring some chocolates for us to snack on…” And when he sees your eyes light up at that, he smiles again, “Chocolate for the lady, done.”

You laugh, and then Tendo is seeing himself out, telling you he can’t wait to see you both tomorrow. And once he’s gone, you can’t help feeling like you don’t know what to with yourself now. Not with Ushijima’s stare boring into your back. After a minute he says, “You don’t have to come.”

And if this had been the first week you’d known him, you might’ve taken that a little personally. But knowing him, he thinks he’s just stating something. He doesn’t see how it can be interpreted as him not wanting you there. “No, it sounds fun! And Tendo seems nice.”

“Tendo is very kind,” he states, and you have to resist the urge to chuckle at him. Ushijima is not a man of words and if that had come out of anyone else’s mouth you would’ve thought they were little strange. But in the months of living with him, despite your limited interactions, you’ve gotten used to his mannerisms.

Looking away from him, you start retreating down the hallway to the safety of your room, but before you disappear you say one more thing. “Plus, I’ve never seen you play.” Then you’re gone, not to be seen for the rest of the night. You don’t see him watch you until you’re out of sight. If you had, you would’ve been shocked by his dumbfounded expression at how the small smile you gave him made his heart stutter for a moment.

* * *

Ushijima has to leave much earlier than you do for the game, but he informs you that Tendo will be by to pick you up and go to the game together. Then, for the first time probably ever, he bids you goodbye and tells you he’ll see you afterwards.

Tendo comes by the apartment a few hours later, sporting an Ushijima jersey and a box of chocolates he asks to hide in your bag. For having just met him yesterday, he easily leads the conversation, asking you all sorts of things—though he seems particularly interested in your relationship with Ushijima. You try to assure him it’s nothing. Really, you aren’t even sure if you can consider Ushijima your friend. Right now, you’re pretty much strictly roommates and that’s it.

When you let it slip that you’ve never seen Ushijima play, Tendo is shocked. “Really? Not even on TV or anything?”

You shake your head. “Nope! I guess I never thought of it.” The lie slips through your teeth easily and Tendo doesn’t bat an eye at it.

Though he does grin telling you, “You’re in for a treat then! Have you ever watched volleyball at all?”

Your regretfully admit to him that no—you’ve never seen a game. You do vaguely remember the rules from high school, but they’re a bit fuzzy now. Tendo tells you not to worry and spends the rest of the train ride to the stadium filling you in on all the aspects of volleyball. And the more he talks, the more excited you get.

When you finally enter the stadium, Tendo is amusingly proud to show off your VIP tickets to be allowed entrance to the special seats reserved solely for Ushijima’s guests. To your delight, they’re some of the best seats in the house and you and Tendo get to work on the chocolates you snuck in while you wait for the game to start. Already the stadium is buzzing with excitement and you can feel your own continue to grow.

Meanwhile, Ushijima hasn’t said a word that he has visitors today. So, it comes as a complete surprise to his teammates when a chorus of cheers erupts from his seats when he enters the stadium. He doesn’t take note of how shocked his teammates are—he’s never had any spectators before. And none of them ever expected one of them to be a _girl_.

“So, who’re your friends?” Heiwajima asks during warm-ups, nudging Ushijima in the side and motioning his head towards you and Tendo.

“Isn’t that Tendo-san?” Kageyama notes, his own eyes up in the stands.

Without looking upwards, Ushijima replies, “It is.”

Heiwajima rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we aren’t so interested in _him_ as we are the beauty sitting next to him.”

Now Ushijima lifts his attention, eyes drifting to you. He hasn’t told anyone on the team he has a roommate. Not because he has any reason to hide you, but there has never been a reason for him to bring you up. So, he doesn’t think much of it when he says, “That’s my roommate.” And then introduces you.

Everyone on the teams’ eyes nearly bug out of their heads at that information.

“Ushijima, you _bastard_!”

His brow furrows. Why is he a bastard? You’re just his roommate. And he never lied to anyone about you, nobody ever asked.

“Keeping _that_ a secret from us this whole time!”

He ponders that. He wasn’t really trying to keep any secret. “It’s not a secret,” he says. “You never asked.”

The team guffaws at him and continues to grill him about you until Hirugami claps his hands and tells everyone to focus on the match. They’ll have plenty of time to discuss Ushijima’s secret roommate later. Again, Ushijima tries to explain it you were never a _secret_ , but Hirugami brushes him off and tells him to start spiking warm-ups.

It isn’t hard for him to ignore you and Tendo during the game. He’s used to having nobody here for him, so he just treats it like any other day. It’s nothing special, he’ll play the way he usually does. Meanwhile, up in the stands, you can’t keep your eyes off him. You finally see why he works so hard, and maybe understand him a bit better.

He loves volleyball, you know that—but seeing him in action really drives it home. He’s a _machine_. Every time he serves or spikes you swear the other team’s arms are going to rip off from the force of the ball. And the sound that ricochets in the stadium when the ball connects solidly with the floor is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. It’s like a clap of thunder rattling your bones and before you know it, you’re cheering loudly alongside Tendo with no qualms.

It’s _exciting_ being here. You can feel your heart racing in your chest each time the Adlers or the other team is at a critical point, and sometimes you catch yourself holding your breath in anticipation for the outcome. You never thought watching a sport could be so thrilling.

And Ushijima is incredible. You suspected as much, but actually watching him for the first time is something else. You can’t help gobbling up the sight of him, his powerful thighs thrusting him into the air when he jumps, his biceps on display when his hand connects with the ball—and above it all, that sharp look in his eyes that sends goosebumps prickling down your spine without your permission. If Tendo notices you shamelessly ogling your roommate at all, he doesn’t comment.

He’s oblivious to the fact he’s actually playing a _lot_ more intensely than he usually does. Which some of his teammates never imagined possible. And most of them, besides the clueless ones alongside Ushijima, have a pretty good idea what’s different about this game. Though they can’t pinpoint if it’s just a result of having spectators in general, or if it’s _you_ specifically.

The Adlers come out victorious after four hard sets, winning the first and second, but then having to snag the win in the fourth. You watch as the team gets swarmed by reporters looking for a post-game interview and Tendo tugs on your arm telling you that Ushijima is going to meet you by the locker room. You must give him a surprised look because he holds up the card dangling around his neck with a grin. “VIP, remember?” You giggle and follow him out.

In the locker room, Heiwajima and others try desperately to invite him, you, and Tendo out with them after the game. But he has to decline, you three already have plans. And he doesn’t wait around to see their disappointed expressions as he heads out of the room to look for you and Tendo. He finds the two of you nearby and once you catch sight of him, a smile splits your face in two.

“That was amazing, Ushijima! I’ve never had so much fun watching a sport before!” You gush once he’s in earshot.

“Volleyball is very fun.” He nods as the three of you head towards the exit. Ushijima purposefully avoids the spots he knows he is likely to be ambushed by reporters or fans, opting for a back exit instead that he sometimes uses when he wants to make a quiet escape.

“I had no idea being left-handed was such an advantage! Tendo told me it really throws people off apparently.”

Tendo sneaks him a smile and then throws an arm around his shoulder. “So, where is the great Ushiwaka takin’ us for dinner?”

You end up at a nice restaurant not too far away, and of course Ushijima gets recognized a couple times being this close to the stadium. He politely agrees to autographs and declines photos, seemingly unaware to the fact they’re just taking them secretly when they return to their tables. And while you’re waiting for your food to arrive, you can’t seem to stop talking about volleyball. Admitting that you’ll probably watch a few more of his games from home now and even cover your face in embarrassment when Tendo suggests you get your _own_ Ushijima jersey to wear in support.

It’s then that Ushijima realizes he very much enjoys listening to you talk about what you thought of volleyball. Though he does feel heat creeping up his neck at the thought of you wearing one of his jerseys. All the while, Tendo is sitting beside you smirking up a storm, and Ushijima can’t for the life of him place why.

After dinner, when you’re walking a bit ahead of them and out of earshot, Tendo nudges him playfully in the side. “She’s pretty great, right?”

He looks at your back, expression unchanging. “She’s a good roommate.”

Tendo groans dramatically. “No blockhead—like, she’s pretty _great_ , if you know what I mean.”

He blinks. “Do you want to ask her out?” Tendo can’t help slapping himself on the forehead. Who was he to think that Ushijima has any idea you are available, and he has a _very_ high chance with you?

“Not _me_ ,” Tendo spells out slowly. “ _You_.”

“I don’t want to ask her out.”

Tendo’s thin brows lift. “Are you sure about that?”

Tendo doesn’t miss his slight hesitation before he says, “Yes.”

And he doesn’t—you’re his roommate, and a good one. He likes having you around, but not the way Tendo seems to think.

But Tendo isn’t convinced. “Okay~,” he sing-songs before skipping up to loop his arms through yours and make you laugh about something. Ushijima thinks about that for a few minutes, why doesn’t Tendo believe him?

* * *

When you first moved in, it took a few weeks to get accustomed to each other. But once you figured out his schedule it became a lot easier. You know exactly when to hide in your room if you want to avoid him and when to come out once he’s gone. After going to his volleyball game, you _especially_ try to avoid him during the times he’s walking down the hallway towards the shower, damp with sweat from a workout. Your brain can’t seem to function seeing him slick with the shine of sweat, his hair clinging to his forehead, and a towel draped around his neck—it’s too much for you, as much as you hate to admit.

But one week, you swear he’s on a warpath to make you a stuttering, flustered mess. Despite knowing the fact you’re certain Ushijima has _no_ clue he can have that effect on people, much less do it on purpose. But every single day he’s waltzing around the apartment without a shirt on and while he doesn’t seem to see the problem with it, you don’t think your heart can take it much more.

And it’s the final straw when you see him a few days later, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin as he saunters across the apartment from his home gym towards the bathroom in the hallway. All while you’re standing dumbfounded in the kitchen trying _really_ hard not to get caught staring at his enormous biceps or the way the shine of sweat accentuates the dips of his abdomen. It’s in this moment you can truly understand why he has so many fans despite his rather stone-like demeanor.

“You have _got_ to put a shirt on,” you blurt when he’s halfway across, knowing this will turn into some dangerous territory if he keeps walking around the apartment half-naked.

He stops in his tracks, his head cocking the only indication he’s confused by your statement. “I don’t want to wear a sweaty shirt,” he says by way of explanation. He doesn’t seem to notice your flustered expression. “I might catch a cold.”

You resist the urge to groan and slap yourself on the forehead. “Fine, then I’m wearing whatever I want around the apartment,” you say, determined to make him realize _why_ he can’t just walk around like that. Though knowing Ushijima, you’ll never get through that thick skull of his.

And as you suspect, he simply replies, “Alright.” Before disappearing into the hallway and the bathroom to take a shower.

You lower your forehead to rest it on the cool countertop, shaking your head at how dense he really is. And you’re beginning to realize you think it’s _endearing_. While his infuriatingly toned body may be a major perk, you’re starting to see that you like _him_ too. Now you actually groan. You swore this would never happen—not with Ushijima at least. But here you are.

After that, you make a pointed effort to wear the shortest shorts you can possibly find whenever he’s around. And you purposefully pair them with an oversized shirt, so it doesn’t look like you’re wearing pants at all. But if it has any effect on Ushijima, you can’t tell. You can’t help cursing his dumb impassive expression every time you retreat to your room for the night. Seriously—is he swayed by anything _ever_?

However, Ushijima hardly knows what to do with himself the first time you strutted out like that. He might be dense, but he’s still only human. His eyes naturally span down the expanse of your exposed legs and he has to grip his water bottle like a vice in order to keep it from clattering into the sink when you rise to your tiptoes to grab something from the top shelf. Your shorts ride up even _more_ , hugging the curves of your ass as you stick it out to balance yourself.

You let out a surprised sound when he appears behind you, easily picking up the thing you were vying for and handing it to you without so much as a word.

“I really need a stepstool or something, huh?” You joke, taking it from him gratefully and blissfully unaware he was just blatantly staring at your ass.

He doesn’t say anything, but the next week you find a small stepstool leaning against the cabinets for you.

* * *

Staring at your phone in your hands, you thank any god listening that you brought it with you. How stupid do you have to be to lock yourself out of your apartment when you’re taking the trash out? Sitting on the floor against your door, you lean your head back on it and let out an exasperated sigh. You already went down to the office for help, they called a locksmith, and they aren’t available until tonight. And by that time, Ushijima will be home from practice and you won’t need the service anyways.

You have several options here. You could call a friend and stay with them until Ushijima gets back from practice, but they all live too far to walk to, and you don’t have your wallet. You could hang out in the apartment buildings lobby until he gets home, but if your phone dies, you’re stuck with nothing to do and no way to contact anyone.

The last option is slowly beginning to seem like your only option: calling Ushijima at practice for help. Burying your face into your hands you groan—you _really_ don’t want to do that. Plus, you doubt he’s going to answer his phone anyways. After you sit there for a few more minutes, you take a deep breath and steel your courage. Leaving a message is better than nothing.

Despite deciding to call him, you still stare at his contact for a few moments before finally pressing the ‘call’ button. It rings a few times, then unsurprisingly goes to voicemail. When it beeps for you to leave your message, you swallow your pride and say, “Hey Ushijima, I know you’re at practice, but I locked myself out of the apartment…and the locksmith can’t come until tonight. If you by any chance get a break, would you be able to let me back in? I’d really appreciate it…sorry for the inconvenience and disrupting practice!”

Then you hang up and slump against the door again. Might as well head down to the lobby to sit somewhere more comfortable than the hallway floor. You turn the brightness down on your phone to conserve battery and resist the urge to just sit in the lobby scrolling through social media to pass the time. If he by some stroke of luck calls you back, you want to make sure your phone isn’t dead.

“Hey Ushijima, your phone was ringing in the locker room while I was in the bathroom. It was your roommate~,” Heiwajima teases. Ushijima slowly looks past his shoulder back towards the locker room door—that’s odd. You’ve never called him before. “And she left a message!” He coos.

Before Heiwajima can make any more comments, Ushijima strides past him to check his phone. They’re taking a short break and he doesn’t see a problem with making sure everything is alright. You wouldn’t have called if it weren’t important. He doesn’t see the rest of the team share suggestive looks behind his back. Before you, Ushijima refused to check his phone during practice, no matter how many messages he had (which are few and far between but still).

Upon hearing your message, he calls you back immediately.

You’re shocked that he’s calling you back within a half hour of your call.

“Uh, hi,” you say upon answering the call. “Sorry for bothering you. I’m surprised you saw my message so fast.”

“Heiwajima heard my phone ringing while he was in the bathroom.”

“Lucky me,” you joke.

He gets straight to the point. “I’ll leave now.”

Your eyes widen. He’s going to leave practice _right now_ to let you back in? “Oh—um, you don’t have to do that! I’m just waiting in the lobby; I can wait until you have a longer break or something!”

“I can come now,” he says plainly. Then he hangs up on you. You sit back in the chair you’re sitting in and huff out a breath speechless. Never once has Ushijima left practice early. And now he’s just dipping out without hesitation because you’re a major idiot? You can’t fathom it, and the little voice in the back of your head that’s been slowly falling for him is absolutely _swooning_ at the thought.

When he enters the gym again, Heiwajima finds him immediately, while the other members of the team look curiously on as he asks, “So, what’d she want?” Immensely interested in the fact that judging from his sweatpants and jacket over his practice clothes, Ushijima looks like he’s about to leave.

“She’s locked out of the apartment,” Ushijima explains as he heads towards the door.

The team looks around at each other surprised. They don’t get another word in as Ushijima explains to the coach the situation and says he’ll be back in less than hour. Then he’s out the door and a few of them start chuckling to themselves, while the more clueless members wonder why in the world Ushijima would willingly leave.

The gym isn’t far from the apartment, so it’s not long until you see Ushijima step through the front doors and sweep his gaze across the lobby. You greet him right away and the two of you get in the elevator. The silence is unbearable for you—though you’re sure he’s completely fine with it.

When you reach the door and he lets you in, you finally say, “Thank you. You really didn’t have to leave practice though; I could have waited.”

You swear his eyes soften, but it might just be your eyes playing tricks on you. He appreciates that you are being considerate for his time, but he found he wasn’t keen on the thought of you being locked out. It didn’t sit right with him. Not when he’s only 20 minutes away. He’ll be back in under an hour, and that’s better than you just sitting out here for several hours.

He just nods his head and says, “I’ll come anytime.”

At those words, that voice inside your head becomes a pathetic puddle and it’s an effort to keep your knees underneath you.

He can’t explain the way his heart lifts at the smile you give him. Stepping backwards into the apartment, you say as you’re closing the door, “See you when you get home.”

_Home_.

He’s surprised how that word coming out of your mouth makes him feel.

* * *

Any feeling of domesticity is thrown out the window the morning you’re walking around the apartment in one of his sweatshirts he lent you a few weeks back when you were cold. He’s stops in his tracks in the hallway seeing you in the kitchen at the stove cooking breakfast, his sweatshirt too big for you covering your shorts and just brushing your bare thighs.

Without giving him the chance to quell it, against his will, his dick strains against the front of his sweatpants and he rushes out the door with barely a goodbye in hopes you don’t see it. It doesn’t even go away on the train on the way to the gym, no matter how hard he tries. His thoughts subconsciously drift to the sight of you and how soft your thighs looked. It’s shocking to him how much he liked seeing you in _his_ clothes. It was the same sort of sensation he felt when Tendo suggested you get yourself an Ushijima jersey—only it’s a hundred times worse.

He tries to ignore it, walking into the locker room like nothing is wrong, stripping his sweatpants and jacket off and shoving them into his locker before he looks around and sees Heiwajima staring at him with raised eyebrows. Then his eyes pointedly look downwards before he lifts them to meet Ushijima’s again. “You wanna deal with that before practice?”

“It’s fine.” He’s sure it’ll go away once he starts warming up.

But then his thoughts drift to _you_ warming up and stretching in his clothes. You bending over, his sweatshirt sliding up your chest, revealing more of your ass and thighs as you count to ten. And any sort of effort he’d put forth to settle down is destroyed as his shorts feel uncomfortably tight. What is going on with him? He hasn’t been able to stop thinking of you as of late, and it’s only been getting worse.

Heiwajima just starts laughing. “Seriously dude, nobody wants to look at that all day.” Then he motions his head in the direction of the showers.

Ushijima’s eyes widen, realizing just what he’s suggesting. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually concedes. He won’t be able to play like this. Nobody seems to care as Ushijima grabs his towel and heads off to the showers, despite feeling distraught about what he’s about to do. He’s never really been one for masturbating, so it surprises him how easy it is to let you in his sweatshirt come to mind as he wraps a hand around his cock. And he comes a lot faster than he expects too.

That’s the first time he jerks off to the thought of you. He tries to brush it off as a necessity for him in order to practice well that day, but it soon becomes a terrible habit he can’t stop. Especially when you keep _doing_ things that make him uncomfortably hard. Like still wearing those tiny shorts around the apartment, doing yoga in the living room, showing him your Ushijima jersey you finally ordered online—seriously, never in his life did he think this would ever become a problem.

He hardly knows what do with himself at this new infatuation.

* * *

Recently, you’ve started going out on dates because you’re beginning to feel this strange tension between you and Ushijima, and you have no idea how to deal with it besides letting some other guy pound you into a mattress while you ashamedly picture it being Ushijima instead. One night, when you’re bidding him goodbye as you’re on your way out the door, he asks you, “Will you be home tonight?”

Your heart stutters a bit at that word. Home. And then you feel disgustingly guilty that he’s noticed you don’t usually come back after these dates. Meaning you think even _he_ can put the dots together on what you’re doing.

But really, he’s asking because what you’re wearing is already making his pants feel tight and even though it makes him feel a little ashamed, he needs to get his frustration out somewhere that you’re out spending the night with other guys. It makes him feel incredibly _jealous_ —an emotion he’s not used to yet.

“Probably not,” you tell him, swallowing your pride about it and shutting the door.

For the next couple of hours, he tries to resist the demon in his head telling him to go sprawl out on his bed and think about you with his hand wrapped around his cock. But even after he makes dinner, works out, and takes a _cold_ shower; it’s still there nagging at the back of his head. And he knows it won’t go away until he’s coming into his hand with your name spilling from his lips. He resigns himself to this becoming something he does now and heads off to his bedroom to satiate himself.

Your date is terrible. He wasn’t like this when you met him at the coffee shop last week, but tonight he must be feeling extra lucky. Enough to let his cocky, asshole nature shine through and you find yourself forcibly smiling your way through dinner. It doesn’t help that all you can think about is a certain stone-faced, stoic, gentleman who’s just sitting there waiting for you at your apartment. And just the thought of letting this guy touch you tonight makes your skin crawl. So, once the dinner is over, you end the date short, blaming it on not feeling well. He looks pretty put out that he won’t be getting his dick wet tonight, but you’re not inclined to care very much.

Unsurprisingly, the apartment is dark when you return. Ushijima goes to bed promptly at 9 o’clock every night, so you weren’t expecting to find him awake. So, you’re stunned into silence when you hear sounds emitting from his room on your way to yours. It sounds like he’s…panting? Is he working out?

Your brow furrows and your curiosity gets the better of you. You know it’s wrong, and such an invasion of privacy, but you just can’t stop your fingers closing around his doorknob, turning it slowly to just get a tiny peek into his room.

Your heart comes to a jarring halt at the sight you stumble upon.

Never, in your entire life, did you think you’d catch Ushijima Wakatoshi masturbating.

It never even occurred to you that is something he might do, not really seeming the type to.

And holy shit—is it a sight.

Your mouth involuntarily dries up at his enormous hand wrapped around his equally massive cock, pumping it from base to tip as his hips work in unison with his hand. His hair is a bit damp, and fuck—his cloudy, lust-filled gaze is making heat pool in your core. Additionally, he’s completely and utterly naked. Who the hell jerks off totally naked is beyond you, but you aren’t complaining as you watch the way the muscles of his abdomen ripple with each movement of his hips and breath he takes.

You could probably stand here watching him do this forever if you’re being honest. 

That is, until your name falls from his lips.

You swear the floor drops out from under you.

At first, you think he’s caught you. But you soon realize that is very much _not_ the case. His hips start shuddering, his pace becoming erratic as he chases his orgasm and you’re suddenly struck by the thought of: _you don’t want him to finish without you_.

And before you can hesitate, you open his door fully and step into his bedroom.

His reaction is nothing like you imagined from someone who just got caught masturbating by their roommate who’s name not two seconds ago escaped his mouth. Anyone else would have yanked their hand away and scrambled to cover up. But not Ushijima.

To his credit, he does cover himself, but he does so in such a calm manner, you’re shocked. Plus, you can see he clearly still has his hand around his cock beneath the blanket. The two of you just look at each other for a few moments, and after what seems like eons of silence, he opens his mouth and says, “You said you weren’t going to be home.”

Your brows raise, amused he’s chosen _that_ as his defense. “I think I said, ‘probably not’ actually.”

His expression doesn’t change as your gaze drifts downwards towards his impressive erection that somehow has not gone away despite that he’s lying there in all his naked glory caught red-handed.

You lick your lips subconsciously. “Can I help you?”

He wasn’t expecting that. Nor was he expecting the way his dick twitched in his grasp at your words. Or how heat is spreading across his entire body at the way you’re looking at him. Is he really going to let this happen? He’s pretty embarrassed you caught him, but you don’t seem phased at all. To him, you almost look…excited.

You don’t really wait for him to respond, taking the way he eyes you up hungrily as a yes, and stepping further into the room. Tentatively, you start lifting away the blanket he covered himself with, and he seems to be in a daze as you toss it aside, baring him for you to see. Glancing up at him, you see he’s breathing heavily, his pupils blown wide as he watches you—and while he may not be able to tell you with words how he feels, his body is telling you enough.

But you still want to make sure. Settling yourself between his thighs, you set a hand on each of them and squeeze lightly to get his attention. His olive gaze rises to meet yours and you ask, “Is this okay?”

Without hesitation, he replies, “Yes.”

And if you know Ushijima at all, he means what he says.

You get yourself a bit more comfortable between his legs, chastely kissing each of his thighs, finding it _immensely_ ego boosting at the way they tremble at your touch. You make your way to the base of his cock and lick one stripe up to the tip. He groans quietly at the sensation, realizing his hand will never be enough again.

His fists curl into the sheets beneath him as you take his head into your mouth, and you fail to suppress the quiet groan that emits from you at how _heavy_ he sits on your tongue. Your mind immediately wandering to what he might feel like inside you—if this goes that far, that is. His eyes haven’t left you, watching you intently as you take more of him into your mouth, the weight of his heady gaze making heat pool between your legs.

Steeling your confidence, you hold his stare as you take nearly all of him into your mouth and start bobbing along his length. A barely audible hiss escapes him, the muscles in his arms straining with how hard he’s fisting the sheets. Yet, you still have his rapt attention, and it makes you want to make him feel so good he _has_ to close his eyes and lean his head back against his pillow.

The thought of having Ushijima Wakatoshi a puddle beneath you makes your thighs clench together. An action that surprisingly doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

In a matter of minutes, you’ve made him throw all qualms out the window and you soon get your wish of seeing him let go. His eyes close, head leaning back revealing the strong column of his neck, and his hips start to move in tandem with your bobbing motions. A guttural groan escapes him when you hollow out your cheeks, and the sound rumbles through you before adding to the growing ache between your legs.

You can’t imagine he’s even close to reaching the end of his stamina, but you are certainly losing patience. So, you pop off his cock, and start making the motions to undress so you can finally fulfill your fantasy of riding him.

He startles you by lifting himself to rest on his elbows, his deep voice filling the silence, “Wait.” You pause, your dress already halfway off. He sits up and pulls you into his lap, completely unbothered by the fact your clothed core is now sitting directly atop his prominent erection. “Let me,” he says so softly you think you might combust.

His hands replace yours, and he gingerly unzips the back of your dress and starts sliding it off your shoulders, each inch of newly exposed skin met by the soft press of his lips. You have no idea if he’s ever been with anyone before, but whatever he’s doing is making your insides scramble and _burn_. His movements are slow and meticulous, like he’s savoring each touch are you’re positively melting in his lap.

Eventually, you have to stand up to shimmy the dress down your legs, but he sits at the edge of the bed waiting patiently before his large hands rest at your hips and pull you back into his lap. Now you’re looking down at him, so you lean down and press your lips against his.

He’s somewhere else entirely—heaven, maybe, as you kiss him. Your lips are soft, body pliant and warm against his as his fingers dig into the plush skin of your hips. He groans involuntarily when your fingers slide into the hair at the base of his neck, tilting his head so you can kiss him even deeper. You’re pleasantly surprised when his tongue darts out questioningly and you happily open your mouth for him.

_I’m doomed_ , you think as his tongue sweeps in at the same time he uses his hands at your waist to grind you down onto his hips. He feels absolutely huge beneath you, and you have no idea if he will even fucking _fit_ inside you. “Fuck…Wakatoshi,” you breathe. His fingers grip a little harder at your voice saying his name like that, but you’re too dazed to notice what it does to him. You continue, “Fuck me, _please_.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and for a moment you think he’s going to comply with your request. Instead, he murmurs, “Not yet.”

You almost pout, but then he’s unclasping your bra and lifting you to set you down on the bed. He doesn’t waste much time ridding you of your underwear next, and you have to resist the urge to cover yourself as he stares at you with a near predatory look in his eyes. “You’re perfect,” he says, clear as day and you feel heat course through your veins at his words.

He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world to him right now. The intensity of his wanton gaze making you squirm beneath it until he lays his body over yours, the comforting weight of him pressing against your skin as he takes your lips again. He elicits a moan from you, his fingers dancing along your sides and his tongue sweeping into your mouth, making you nothing more than a trembling mess underneath him.

His lips leave yours, but he slowly begins trailing kisses along your jaw, down your neck and across your collarbone; almost as if he’s worshipping every inch of your skin before he reaches your breasts. He takes both of them into his enormous hands, the callouses of his fingers scratching along the supple flesh, making your back arch into his touch. Pressing a chaste kiss to your sternum, he rolls your nipples between his fingers, all while keeping his steady gaze on you. And you have no idea _how_ the simple action of him just teasing your nipples while pinning you with those olive eyes is so unbelievably erotic your head begins to feel light.

And _then_ he takes one of them into his mouth and you about lose your goddamn _mind_. How the fuck does he know exactly what to do? In the time you’ve known him you’ve never once seen him be even remotely interested in anyone. But at this point, you’re well past the point of caring how he learned his way around a woman’s body.

His tongue laps at the pert bud, all while he keeps his meticulous pace on your other nipple before turning the attention of his mouth to it. Without thinking much of it, your fingers dive into his hair, curling into the strands as he continues his worshipping. Though it _does_ pull a deep rumble of pleasure from his chest that goes _straight_ between your legs.

“Wakatoshi,” you pant breathlessly, chest heaving, desperate for him to do something about the growing ache at the apex of your thighs.

This time, he seems to heed your words. He pops off your breast and wanders with his lips down the expanse of your stomach, his hands finding purchase at your hips as he settles himself between your thighs. Your thighs tremble in anticipation as he presses soft kisses to each of them, fingers kneading your hips and pulling you closer to his mouth.

Never in your life did you think you’d have _Ushijima Wakatoshi_ between your legs, looking for all the world like he’s about to devour you.

He groans as he slides his tongue between your folds, drunk on how wet you already are. And despite the fact his cock is throbbing almost painfully and leaking on the sheets, he knows to take his time. If you want him to fuck you, he has to make sure you’re ready for him.

You throw your head back, fingers fisting into the sheets as a lewd moan escapes your throat that only makes him bury his face even deeper into you. His tongue finds the bundle of nerves at the apex and sweeps across it, moving in small circles that have you finding purchase in his hair to keep him there as you move your hips in unison with his tongue.

A loud gasp fills the air as one of his thick fingers enters you, the ministrations of his tongue not stopping as he slowly pumps it in and out of your core. He’s kept his attention on you this entire time, his gaze never wavering as he watches you fall apart at his mercy. And he finds he’s thoroughly pleased at how easily his finger slipped into you, enough that he tentatively prods another one at your entrance that after a moment slides in without any resistance.

It’s so satisfying that he buries his face even deeper, his tongue pressing harder against your clit as you fuck yourself on his fingers. At the sensation of his second finger, your own find purchase in his hair, babbling utter nonsense that if you were in a clearer state of mind you might be a little embarrassed about.

“Please,” you beg, desperate for his cock inside you, “fuck me Wakatoshi. I want you inside me.”

He nearly falls apart at your needy request, but he isn’t finished yet.

You continue to plead with him, until you abruptly feel the absence of his tongue and you look down to find him staring intensely at you. Your throat clams up at his smoldering gaze as he says simply, “You aren’t ready.”

Your mouth drops open as you blink in surprise. Is he joking? Are you not frantically fucking yourself on his fingers right now, desperately asking for him to be inside you? How can you possibly be anymore ‘ready’?

“What are you talking about?”

Now his eyes drop, and very quietly he murmurs, “I’ve been told I am…quite large.”

“By _who_?” You blurt.

All he says is, “Others.”

You decide to leave it at that, your attention traveling to his erect cock, it pulsing so hard you can almost see it and dripping from the tip. You swallow nervously trying to imagine _that_ going inside you. Ushijima just watches you eye him, his two fingers still knuckle deep in you, which he seems to have forgotten about as he angles his head in question. “Do you want to keep going?”

Warmth blooms in your chest at his concern. “I would very much like to,” you reply, smiling innocently at him, despite the fact the position you’re in is very much the _opposite_ of innocent.

And the answering small smile he gives you makes your stomach flutter. It’s so _soft_ and dazzling, it nearly knocks all the breath out of you. He presses his lips to your inner thigh, smiling against your skin, and all you can do is stare in awe of him.

Then, as if remembering where is fingers still are, he drags them slowly out of you, his mouth latching on to your clit once again before sliding them easily back in. Soon, he’s got you writhing on his fingers once more, toes curling and your own fingers gripping onto his bicep you can feel flexing with each thrust of his hand.

He waits a bit longer, until his fingers are soaked with your wetness again, before tentatively prodding a third finger at your entrance. He stifles his groan against you when he finds that it slips in along with the others effortlessly. Particularly as the grip you have on his biceps tightens, nails digging into his skin and eyes flaring open at the new sensation.

“Fu— _fuck_ ,” you mewl, holding on to him for dear life as he continues his slow and methodical pace. At this point, you’re practically shoving yourself onto his fingers, wanting him to fuck you deeper and trying to match the pace at which his tongue is flicking against your clit. The sensation becomes overwhelming, your thighs starting to tremble with the effort to not come around his fingers and mouth.

“Wakatoshi, _please_ —I’m going to—,” you try to warn him, nails digging so hard into his arms that you’re leaving small crescent indents in his skin. He doesn’t stop though, not until you’re practically sobbing, “Let me come on your cock, _please_.”

That seems to be his undoing. His fingers and mouth abruptly leave you, eliciting a small sound of discontent from you. But you quickly shut your mouth at the sight of him leaning over you, aligning his hips with yours, one massive hand palmed around his cock as he pushes forward.

When the head of his cock sinks into you, a strangled gasp rips from your throat at just how utterly massive he is. Instinctively, your fingers wrap around his wrist to keep him from going any deeper as you say, “Slow.”

His brow is furrowed in concentration, as if it’s taking all of his willpower to keep from snapping his hips forward and sinking to the hilt in you. “Of course,” he growls, his voice taking on a deep tone that makes your toes curl.

And inch by glorious inch, he pushes deeper into you. His forearms coming to rest on either side of your head as he takes your lips to distract you from him nearly splitting you wide open. You tug him closer, fingers tangling in his olive hair, slanting your mouth against his and slipping your tongue inside which he gladly allows.

Eventually, his hips meet yours, and he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours, his toned chest rising and falling with the deep breaths he has to take in order to keep his sanity. The feeling of your tight walls clamping down around him is enough to make him hiss through his teeth, “Shit.”

The word alone makes heat pool in your core. Ushijima Wakatoshi _never_ swears.

“Holy fucking _shit_.” You correct him. He’s seated fully inside you and you’ve never felt so full in your entire life. Your legs splayed out to either side from just how big he is, and once glance down confirms his thick thighs are shaking with the effort to be gentle.

He just shakes his head at your crass words, then pulls out slightly before ramming his hips back into yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him close to you, your chest meeting his and his head finding the crook of your neck and he begins slowly. And while you’re very much enjoying each of his careful, deep thrusts, you _very_ much would like to be pounded into his mattress. You’re certain he can.

You wonder if he’ll dirty talk with you.

Running your fingers through his dampening hair, you whisper against his ear, “You feel so good, Wakatoshi.” He merely responds with a kiss against your neck and a small approving growl that makes you keep going. “You know what I thought about anytime I was in someone else’s bed?” He makes no indication whether or not he likes you talking to him, so you press on. “This,” you murmur, “ _You._ ”

He stops, and for a second you think you’ve gone too far. But then he rises from your neck, and you swear to god—you almost come on the spot at the carnal glint gleaming in his eyes. Like he is about to utterly and completely _destroy_ you. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation as he finally draws his cock almost all the way out of you before driving his hips home in a way that sends you into total euphoria.

His pace becomes brutal, his hips punishing, wordlessly making you realize it was a mistake for you to _ever_ think anyone but him should be between your legs. It was pure luck you stumbled onto something you didn’t realize—he was _immensely_ jealous every time you came home in the morning, clearly having spent the night with someone else.

It drives him so wild that he growls against your lips, “You’re mine.”

The words are so deliciously possessive, you can’t help the way your walls tighten around him, nor how your legs wrap around his waist and start helping him with each thrust of his hips.

“Yours,” you say, lips brushing against his. His hands wander down your sides, fingers digging into your hips pulling you even closer so that there is virtually no space between your bodies. He’s resting almost his entire weight on you, and his warmth and build is so strangely erotic, the coil in your stomach winds tighter and you can feel your impending orgasm begin to climb.

He cages you in his arms, hips never relenting, seemingly chasing his own release. His quiet grunts of pleasure are going straight between your legs, and you can’t help but start exploring the expanse of his exquisitely toned chest pulling an even deeper sigh from him making you almost melt on the spot. Your hands eventually find a place to rest in the dimples of his hips, relishing the sensation of his muscles moving beneath your fingers.

He refuses to finish before you, no matter how unbelievably tight you’re pulsating around him. So, he reaches between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, pride filling his chest at how you moan lewdly; your head falling back and fingers grappling even harder onto his hips. He takes the opportunity to press kisses to your throat, shoulders, collarbone—any expanse of skin he can get his mouth on.

“Fuck— _yes_ ,” you groan, hands leaving his hips to weave their way into his hair, using your legs to push him even deeper and meeting each of his thrusts with your own. You start quivering under him, your body preparing for the onslaught of pleasure rising in your chest, threatening to snap at any moment.

You come completely undone when Ushijima commands, “Come for me.”

Something about his husky, lust filled tone; his lips making their mark all over your skin, and the harsh thrust of his hips sends you over the edge. Your body bows off the bed, and Ushijima meets you, his arms wrapping around your middle to press you against his chest as his lips latch onto your neck and he buries himself to the hilt in your wet heat.

For the second time tonight, he curses quietly, holding you to him as your walls pulse with your orgasm and he finds his own release alongside you. You hold on to his shoulders for dear life as waves of pleasure roll through you, your body spasming in his grip all while he kisses you softly. It’s tender and erotic at the same time. As you start to calm down, he claims your lips, tongue sweeping in as you push his damp hair off his forehead before cupping his cheeks.

He pulls away from you, only to set his forehead against yours, your warm breath mingling. Both of your chests are still heaving, and although it’s silent, it’s comforting as he holds you.

After a moment, you open your eyes and find his closed, his lips curved into a barely noticeable smile. It fills your heart seeing him look so…content. “Wakatoshi?” You say quietly. His eyes open and your throat closes at just how handsome he is. “I…I like you.” Your eyes close now, embarrassed at how pathetic that sounded.

“I’d hope so.”

Your eyes burst open finding him looking at you comically seriously. You know he doesn’t mean it as a joke, but you can’t help the smile that rises to your lips. He gazes at you curiously as you ask, “And? Do you like me?” As if his softening dick isn’t still inside you right now.

Though, it still makes your heart flip when he replies without hesitation, “Yes.”

“Good.” You grin. “I’d hope so.”

You kiss him again before he finally pulls out of you and without a word, he gets off the bed and disappears out into the hallway. You grimace at the mess between your legs but are pleasantly surprised when he returns with a warm towel to clean yourself up with. While you deal with the mess, he rummages around in his drawers and at first you think he’s looking for clothes for himself, until he hands you a pair of his briefs and a t-shirt.

You must eye them curiously because he sets them on the bed saying, “Sleep with me.” He doesn’t word it like a question.

Taking the clothes, you smile teasingly up at him. “I just did.”

To nobody’s surprise, he’s relatively unfazed. “Overnight,” he explains further. “In my bed.” Though the light dusting of pink coloring his cheeks as he says this makes you want to smother him with kisses all over again.

You slip on his clothes and climb beneath the sheets as your response. You watch him dress, marveling over the muscles shifting in his back and arms until he covers them and joins you in the bed. He draws you close to his side, letting you run your fingers across his cheek before settling at his chin and pulling his lips to yours. You kiss lazily until you both grow tired and you tuck your head under his chin, letting his fingers intertwine with yours and enjoying the affectionate kiss he presses to the top of your head.

He surprises you when he says into the silence, “Are we going to do that again?”

The chuckle that escapes you is by no means meant to be mean. He just fucked you better than anyone in your entire life and if you were in deep shit falling for him before this—you’re doomed now. Yet, you don’t mind in the slightest. Not when being here in his arms feels exactly where you should be.

So, you kiss his neck and reply softly, “Yes.”

You don’t see his answering smile.

**Author's Note:**

> i realized i had SO many fics I've uploaded to Tumblr but never uploaded here for some reason so, I'm dumping them all into this conglomerate fic for me to add to instead of making each of them their own fic. some are requests, and some are from a while ago so bear with me if the writing style changes throughout them!  
> you can follow me on Tumblr @haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles if you so desire :)  
> otherwise, enjoy!


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